SOLDIERS    OF    FORTUNE 


"  You,    Sir,    \vere   a   great   Soldier." 


SOLDIERS  OF 
FORTUNE 


BY 

RICHARD   HARDING  DAVIS 


With  Illustrations  by  C.  D.  Gibson 


CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S    SONS 
NEW  YORK:::::;:::::::::::i9o4 


COPYRIGHT,  1897,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Stack 
AnMK 


tro 

IRENE  AND   DANA   GIBSON 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"You,  Sir,  were  a  great  soldier"       ....  Frontispiece 


FACING 
PAGE 


"Now  you  can  go" 60 

"They  don't  even  know  'Tommy  Atkins'"    ...      90 

Langham  shoved  his  face  down  between   his   knees   into 

the  sand 230 

He  strode  on  up  the  stairs 260 

««  Over  there  is  the  Coast  of  Africa" 344 


SOLDIERS  OF  FORTUNE 


«*TT  is  so  good  of  you  to  come  early,"  said  Mrs. 
JL  Porter,  as  Alice  Langham  entered  the  draw 
ing-room.  "I  want  to  ask  a  favor  of  you.  I'm 
sure  you  won't  mind.  I  would  ask  one  of  the 
debutantes,  except  that  they're  always  so  cross  if 
one  puts  them  next  to  men  they  don't  know  and 
who  can't  help  them,  and  so  I  thought  I'd  just 
ask  you,  you're  so  good-natured.  You  don't  mind, 
do  you?" 

"I  mind  being  called  good-natured,"  said  Miss 
Langham,  smiling.  "Mind  what,  Mrs.  Porter?'* 
she  asked. 

"He  is  a  friend  of  George's,"  Mrs.  Porter  ex 
plained,  vaguely.  "He's  a  cowboy.  It  seems  he 
was  very  civil  to  George  when  he  was  out  there 
shooting  in  New  Mexico,  or  Old  Mexico,  I  don't 
remember  which.  He  took  George  to  his  hut  and 
gave  him  things  to  shoot,  and  all  that,  and  now 
he  is  in  New  York  with  a  letter  of  introduction. 

I 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

It's  just  like  George.  He  may  be  a  most  impossi 
ble  sort  of  man,  but,  as  I  said  to  Mr.  Porter,  the 
people  I've  asked  can't  complain,  because  I  don't 
know  anything  more  about  him  than  they  do.  He 
called  to-day  when  I  was  out  and  left  his  card  and 
George's  letter  of  introduction,  and  as  a  man  had 
failed  me  for  to-night,  I  just  thought  I  would  kill 
two  birds  with  one  stone,  and  ask  him  to  fill  his 
place,  and  he's  here.  And,  oh,  yes,"  Mrs.  Porter 
added,  "I'm  going  to  put  him  next  to  you,  do  you 
mind?" 

"Unless  he  wears  leather  leggings  and  long  spurs 
I  shall  mind  very  much,"  said  Miss  Langham. 

"Well,  that's  very  nice  of  you,"  purred  Mrs. 
Porter,  as  she  moved  away.  "He  may  not  be  so 
bad,  after  all;  and  I'll  put  Reginald  King  on  your 
other  side,  shall  I?"  she  asked,  pausing  and  glan 
cing  back. 

The  look  on  Miss  Langham's  face,  which  had 
been  one  of  amusement,  changed  consciously,  and 
she  smiled  with  polite  acquiescence. 

"As  you  please,  Mrs.  Porter,"  she  answered. 
She  raised  her  eyebrows  slightly.  "I  am,  as  the 
politicians  say,  'in  the  hands  of  my  friends.'  ' 

"Entirely  too  much  in  the  hands  of  my  friends," 
she  repeated,  as  she  turned  away.  This  was  the 
twelfth  time  during  that  same  winter  that  she  and 
Mr.  King  had  been  placed  next  to  one  another  at 

2 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

dinner,  and  it  had  passed  beyond  the  point  when 
she  could  say  that  it  did  not  matter  what  people 
thought  as  long  as  she  and  he  understood.  It  had 
now  reached  that  stage  when  she  was  not  quite 
sure  that  she  understood  either  him  or  herself. 
They  had  known  each  other  for  a  very  long  time; 
too  long,  she  sometimes  thought,  for  them  ever 
to  grow  to  know  each  other  any  better.  But  there 
was  always  the  chance  that  he  had  another  side, 
one  that  had  not  disclosed  Itself,  and  which  she 
could  not  discover  in  the  strict  social  environment 
in  which  they  both  lived.  And  she  was  the  surer 
of  this  because  she  had  once  seen  him  when  he 
did  not  know  that  she  was  near,  and  he  had  been 
so  different  that  it  had  puzzled  her  and  made  her 
wonder  if  she  knew  the  real  Reggie  King  at  all. 

It  was  at  a  dance  at  a  studio,  and  some  French 
pantomimists  gave  a  little  play.  When  it  was  over, 
King  sat  in  the  corner  talking  to  one  of  the  French 
women,  and  while  he  waited  on  her  he  was  laugh 
ing  at  her  and  at  her  efforts  to  speak  English.  He 
was  telling  her  how  to  say  certain  phrases  and  not 
telling  her  correctly,  and  she  suspected  this  and 
was  accusing  him  of  it,  and  they  were  rhapsodizing 
and  exclaiming  over  certain  delightful  places  and 
dishes  of  which  they  both  knew  in  Paris  with  the 
enthusiasm  of  two  children.  Miss  Langham  saw 
him  off  his  guard  for  the  first  time,  and  instead 

3 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

of  a  somewhat  bored  and  clever  man  of  the  world, 
he  appeared  as  sincere  and  interested  as  a  boy. 
When  he  joined  her,  later,  the  same  evening,  he 
was  as  entertaining  as  usual,  and  as  polite  and 
attentive  as  he  had  been  to  the  Frenchwoman,  but 
he  was  not  greatly  interested,  and  his  laugh  was 
modulated  and  not  spontaneous.  She  had  won 
dered  that  night,  and  frequently  since  then,  if,  in 
the  event  of  his  asking  her  to  marry  him,  which 
was  possible,  and  of  her  accepting  him,  which  was 
also  possible,  whether  she  would  find  him,  in  the 
closer  knowledge  of  married  life,  as  keen  and  light- 
hearted  with  her  as  he  had  been  with  the  French 
dancer.  If  he  would  but  treat  her  more  like  a 
comrade  and  equal,  and  less  like  a  prime  minister 
conferring  with  his  queen !  She  wanted  something 
more  intimate  than  the  deference  that  he  showed 
her,  and  she  did  not  like  his  taking  it  as  an  ac 
cepted  fact  that  she  was  as  worldly-wise  as  him 
self,  even  though  it  were  true. 

She  was  a  woman  and  wanted  to  be  loved,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  she  had  been  loved  by  many 
men — at  least  it  was  so  supposed — and  had  rejected 
them. 

Each  had  offered  her  position,  or  had  wanted 
her  because  she  was  fitted  to  match  his  own  great 
state,  or  because  he  was  ambitious,  or  because  she 
was  rich.  The  man  who  could  love  her  as  she 

4 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

oncte  believed  men  could  love,  and  who  could  give 
her  something  else  besides  approval  of  her  beauty 
and  her  mind,  had  not  disclosed  himself.  She  had 
begun  to  think  that  he  never  would,  that  he  did 
not  exist,  that  he  was  an  imagination  of  the  play 
house  and  the  novel.  The  men  whom  she  knew 
were  careful  to  show  her  that  they  appreciated  how 
distinguished  was  her  position,  and  how  inaccessi 
ble  she  was  to  them.  They  seemed  to  think  that 
by  so  humbling  themselves,  and  by  emphasizing 
her  position  they  pleased  her  best,  when  it  was 
what  she  wanted  them  to  forget.  Each  of  them 
would  draw  away  backward,  bowing  and  protesting 
that  he  was  unworthy  to  raise  his  eyes  to  such  a 
prize,  but  that  if  she  would  only  stoop  to  him, 
how  happy  his  life  would  be.  Sometimes  they 
meant  it  sincerely;  sometimes  they  were  gentleman 
ly  adventurers  of  title,  from  whom  it  was  a  business 
proposition,  and  in  either  case  she  turned  restlessly 
away  and  asked  herself  how  long  it  would  be  be 
fore  the  man  would  come  who  would  pick  her  up  on 
his  saddle  and  gallop  off  with  her,  with  his  arm 
around  her  waist  and  his  horse's  hoofs  clattering 
beneath  them,  and  echoing  the  tumult  in  their 
hearts. 

She  had  known  too  many  great  people  in  the 
world  to  feel  impressed  with  her  own  position  at 
home  in  America;  but  she  sometimes  compared 

5 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

herself  to  the  Queen  in  "In  a  Balcony,"  and  re 
peated  to  herself,  with  mock  seriousness: — • 

"  And  you  the  marble  statue  all  the  time 
They  praise  and  point  at  as  preferred  to  life, 
Yet  leave  for  the  first  breathing  woman's  cheek, 
First  dancer's,  gypsy's  or  street  balladine's! " 

And  if  it  were  true,  she  asked  herself,  that  the 
man  she  had  imagined  was  only  an  ideal  and  an 
illusion,  was  not  King  the  best  of  the  others,  the 
unideal  and  ever-present  others?  Every  one  else 
seemed  to  think  so.  The  society  they  knew  put 
them  constantly  together  and  approved.  Her  peo 
ple  approved.  Her  own  mind  approved,  and  as 
her  heart  was  not  apparently  ever  to  be  considered, 
who  could  say  that  it  did  not  approve  as  well? 
He  was  certainly  a  very  charming  fellow,  a  manly, 
clever  companion,  and  one  who  bore  about  him 
the  evidences  of  distinction  and  thorough  breed 
ing.  As  far  as  family  went,  the  Kings  were  as  old 
as  a  young  country  could  expect,  and  Reggie  King 
was,  moreover,  In  spite  of  his  wealth,  a  man  of 
action  and  ability.  His  yacht  journeyed  from  con 
tinent  to  continent,  and  not  merely  up  the  Sound 
to  Newport,  and  he  was  as  well  known  and  wel 
come  to  the  consuls  along  the  coasts  of  Africa  and 
South  America  as  he  was  at  Cowes  or  Nice.  His 
books  of  voyages  were  recognized  by  geographical 

6 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

societies  and  other  serious  bodies,  who  had  given 
him  permission  to  put  long  disarrangements  of  the 
alphabet  after  his  name.  She  liked  him  because 
she  had  grown  to  be  at  home  with  him,  because 
it  was  good  to  know  that  there  was  some  one  who 
would  not  misunderstand  her,  and  who,  should  she 
so  indulge  herself,  would  not  take  advantage  of 
any  appeal  she  might  make  to  his  sympathy,  who 
would  always  be  sure  to  do  the  tactful  thing  and 
the  courteous  thing,  and  who,  while  he  might  never 
do  a  great  thing,  could  not  do  an  unkind  one. 

Miss  Langham  had  entered  the  Porters'  draw 
ing-room  after  the  greater  number  of  the  guests  had 
arrived,  and  she  turned  from  her  hostess  to  listen 
to  an  old  gentleman  with  a  passion  for  golf,  a 
passion  in  which  he  had  for  a  long  time  been  en 
deavoring  to  interest  her.  She  answered  him  and 
his  enthusiasm  in  kind,  and  with  as  much  apparent 
interest  as  she  would  have  shown  in  a  matter  of 
state.  It  was  her  principle  to  be  all  things  to  all 
men,  whether  they  were  great  artists,  great  diplo 
mats,  or  great  bores.  If  a  man  had  been  pleading 
with  her  to  leave  the  conservatory  and  run  away 
with  him,  and  another  had  come  up  innocently  and 
announced  that  it  was  his  dance,  she  would  have 
said:  "Oh,  is  it?"  with  as  much  apparent  delight 
as  though  his  coming  had  been  the  one  bright  hope 
in  her  life. 

7 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

She  was  growing  enthusiastic  over  the  delights 
of  golf  and  unconsciously  making  a  very  beautiful 
picture  of  herself  in  her  interest  and  forced  vivac 
ity,  when  she  became  conscious  for  the  first  time 
of  a  strange  young  man  who  was  standing  alone 
before  the  fireplace  looking  at  her,  and  frankly 
listening  to  all  the  nonsense  she  was  talking.  She 
guessed  that  he  had  been  listening  for  some  time, 
and  she  also  saw,  before  he  turned  his  eyes  quickly 
away,  that  he  was  distinctly  amused.  Miss  Lang- 
ham  stopped  gesticulating  and  lowered  her  voice, 
but  continued  to  keep  her  eyes  on  the  face  of  the 
stranger,  whose  own  eyes  were  wandering  around 
the  room,  to  give  her,  so  she  guessed,  the  idea  that 
he  had  not  been  listening,  but  that  she  had  caught 
him  at  it  in  the  moment  he  had  first  looked  at  her. 
He  was  a  tall,  broad-shouldered  youth,  with  a  hand 
some  face,  tanned  and  dyed,  either  by  the  sun  or 
by  exposure  to  the  wind,  to  a  deep  ruddy  brown, 
which  contrasted  strangely  with  his  yellow  hair  and 
mustache,  and  with  the  pallor  of  the  other  faces 
about  him.  He  was  a  stranger  apparently  to  every 
one  present,  and  his  bearing  suggested,  in  conse 
quence,  that  ease  of  manner  which  comes  to  a  per 
son  who  is  not  only  sure  of  himself,  but  who  has 
no  knowledge  of  the  claims  and  pretensions  to  so 
cial  distinction  of  those  about  him.  His  most  at 
tractive  feature  was  his  eyes,  which  seemed  to  ob- 

8 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

serve  all  that  was  going  on,  not  only  what  was  on 
the  surface,  but  beneath  the  surface,  and  that  not 
rudely  or  covertly  but  with  the  frank,  quick  look 
of  the  trained  observer.  Miss  Langham  found  it 
an  interesting  face  to  watch,  and  she  did  not  look 
away  from  it.  She  was  acquainted  with  every  one 
else  in  the  room,  and  hence  she  knew  this  must  be 
the  cowboy  of  whom  Mrs.  Porter  had  spoken,  and 
she  wondered  how  any  one  who  had  lived  the 
rough  life  of  the  West  could  still  retain  the  look 
when  in  formal  clothes  of  one  who  was  in  the 
habit  of  doing  informal  things  in  them. 

Mrs.  Porter  presented  her  cowboy  simply  as 
"Mr.  Clay,  of  whom  I  spoke  to  you,"  with  a  sig 
nificant  raising  of  the  eyebrows,  and  the  cowboy 
made  way  for  King,  who  took  Miss  Langham  in. 
He  looked  frankly  pleased,  however,  when  he 
found  himself  next  to  her  again,  but  did  not  take 
advantage  of  it  throughout  the  first  part  of  the 
dinner,  during  which  time  he  talked  to  the  young 
married  woman  on  his  right,  and  Miss  Langham 
and  King  continued  where  they  had  left  off  at  their 
last:  meeting.  They  knew  each  other  well  enough 
to  joke  of  the  way  in  which  they  were  thrown  into 
each  other's  society,  and,  as  she  said,  they  tried  to 
make  the  best  of  it.  But  while  she  spoke,  Miss 
Langham  was  continually  conscious  of  the  presence 
of  her  neighbor,  who  piqued  her  interest  and  her 

9 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

curiosity  in  different  ways.  He  seemed  to  be  at 
his  ease,  and  yet  from  the  manner  in  which  he 
glanced  up  and  down  the  table  and  listened  to 
snatches  of  talk  on  either  side  of  him  he  had  the 
appearance  of  one  to  whom  it  was  all  new,  and 
who  was  seeing  it  for  the  first  time. 

There  was  a  jolly  group  at  one  end  of  the  long 
table,  and  they  wished  to  emphasize  the  fact  by 
laughing  a  little  more  hysterically  at  their  remarks 
than  the  humor  of  those  witticisms  seemed  to  jus 
tify.  A  daughter-in-law  of  Mrs.  Porter  was  their 
leader  in  this,  and  at  one  point  she  stopped  in  the 
middle  of  a  story  and  waving  her  hand  at  the  dou 
ble  row  of  faces  turned  in  her  direction,  which  had 
been  attracted  by  the  loudness  of  her  voice,  cried, 
gayly,  "Don't  listen.  This  is  for  private  circula 
tion.  It  is  not  a  jeune-fille  story."  The  debutantes 
at  the  table  continued  talking  again  in  steady,  even 
tones,  as  though  they  had  not  heard  the  remark 
or  the  first  of  the  story,  and  the  men  next  to  them 
appeared  equally  unconscious.  But  the  cowboy, 
Miss  Langham  noted  out  of  the  corner  of  her  eye, 
after  a  look  of  polite  surprise,  beamed  with  amuse 
ment  and  continued  to  stare  up  and  down  the  table 
as  though  he  had  discovered  a  new  trait  in  a  pe 
culiar  and  interesting  animal.  For  some  reason, 
she  could  not  tell  why,  she  felt  annoyed  with 
herself  and  with  her  friends,  and  resented  the 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

attitude  which  the  new-comer  assumed  toward 
them. 

"Mrs.  Porter  tells  me  that  you  know  her  son 
George  ?"  she  said.  He  did  not  answer  her  at  once, 
but  bowed  his  head  in  assent,  with  a  look  of  inter 
rogation,  as  though,  so  it  seemed  to  her,  he  had 
expected  her,  when  she  did  speak,  to  say  something 
less  conventional. 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  after  a  pause,  "he  joined  us 
at  Ayutla.  It  was  the  terminus  of  the  Jalisco  and 
Mexican  Railroad  then.  He  came  out  over  the 
road  and  went  in  from  there  with  an  outfit  af 
ter  mountain  lions.  I  believe  he  had  very  good 
sport." 

"That  is  a  very  wonderful  road,  I  am  told,"  said 
King,  bending  forward  and  introducing  himself 
into  the  conversation  with  a  nod  of  the  head  toward 
Clay;  "quite  a  remarkable  feat  of  engineering." 

"It  will  open  up  the  country,  I  believe,"  as 
sented  the  other,  indifferently. 

"I  know  something  of  it,"  continued  King,  "be 
cause  I  met  the  men  who  were  putting  it  through 
at  Pariqua,  when  we  touched  there  in  the  yacht. 
They  shipped  most  of  their  plant  to  that  port,  and 
we  saw  a  good  deal  of  them.  They  were  a  very 
jolly  lot,  and  they  gave  me  a  most  interesting  ac 
count  of  their  work  and  its  difficulties." 

Clay  was  looking  at  the  other  closely,  as  though 
ii 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

.ie  was  trying  to  find  something  back  of  what  he 
was  saying,  but  as  his  glance  seemed  only  to  em 
barrass  King  he  smiled  freely  again  in  assent,  and 
gave  him  his  full  attention. 

"There  are  no  men  to-day,  Miss  Langham," 
King  exclaimed,  suddenly,  turning  toward  her,  "to 
my  mind,  who  lead  as  picturesque  lives  as  do  civil 
engineers.  And  there  are  no  men  whose  work  is 
as  little  appreciated." 

"Really?"  said  Miss  Langham,  encouragingly. 

"Now  those  men  I  met,"  continued  King,  set 
tling  himself  with  his  side  to  the  table,  "were  all 
young  fellows  of  thirty  or  thereabouts,  but  they 
were  leading  the  lives  of  pioneers  and  martyrs — at 
least  that's  what  I'd  call  it.  They  were  marching 
through  an  almost  unknown  part  of  Mexico,  fight 
ing  Nature  at  every  step  and  carrying  civilization 
with  them.  They  were  doing  better  work  than  sol 
diers,  because  soldiers  destroy  things,  and  these 
chaps  were  creating,  and  making  the  way  straight. 
They  had  no  banners  either,  nor  brass  bands.  They 
fought  mountains  and  rivers,  and  they  were  at 
tacked  on  every  side  by  fever  and  the  lack  of  food 
and  severe  exposure.  They  had  to  sit  down  around 
a  camp-fire  at  night  and  calculate  whether  they  were 
to  tunnel  a  mountain,  or  turn  the  bed  of  a  river 
or  bridge  it.  And  they  knew  all  the  time  that 
whatever  they  decided  to  do  out  there  in  the  wil- 

12 


Soldiers  of   Fortune 

derness  meant  thousands  of  dollars  to  the  stock 
holders  somewhere  up  in  God's  country,  who  would 
some  day  hold  them  to  account  for  them.  They 
dragged  their  chains  through  miles  and  miles  of 
jungle,  and  over  flat  alkali  beds  and  cactus,  and 
they  reared  bridges  across  roaring  canons.  We 
know  nothing  about  them  and  we  care  less.  When 
their  work  is  done  we  ride  over  the  road  in  an 
observation-car  and  look  down  thousands  and  thou 
sands  of  feet  into  the  depths  they  have  bridged, 
and  we  never  give  them  a  thought.  They  are  the 
bravest  soldiers  of  the  present  day,  and  they  are 
the  least  recognized.  1  have  forgotten  their  names, 
and  you  never  heard  them.  But  it  seems  to  me  the 
civil  engineer,  for  all  that,  is  the  chief  civilizer  of 
our  century." 

Miss  Langham  was  looking  ahead  of  her  with 
her  eyes  half-closed,  as  though  she  were  going  over 
in  her  mind  the  situation  King  had  described. 

"I  never  thought  of  that,"  she  said.  "It  sounds 
very  fine.  As  you  say,  the  reward  is  so  inglorious. 
But  that  is  what  makes  it  fine." 

The  cowboy  was  looking  down  at  the  table  and 
pulling  at  a  flower  in  the  centre-piece.  He  had 
ceased  to  smile.  Miss  Langham  turned  on  him 
somewhat  sharply,  resenting  his  silence,  and  said, 
with  a  slight  challenge  in  her  voice: — 

"Do  you  agree,  Mr.  Clay,"  she  asked,  "or  do 
13 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

you  prefer  the  chocolate-cream  soldiers,  in  red  coats 
and  gold  lace?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  the  young  man  answered, 
with  some  slight  hesitation.  "It's  a  trade  for  each 
of  them.  The  engineer's  work  is  all  the  more  ab 
sorbing,  I  imagine,  when  the  difficulties  are  great 
est.  He  has  the  fun  of  overcoming  them." 

"You  see  nothing  in  it  then,"  she  asked,  "but 
a  source  of  amusement?" 

"Oh,  yes,  a  good  deal  more,"  he  replied.  "A 
livelihood,  for  one  thing.  I — I  have  been  an  en 
gineer  all  my  life.  I  built  that  road  Mr.  King  is 
talking  about." 

An  hour  later,  when  Mrs.  Porter  made  the  move 
to  go,  Miss  Langham  rose  with  a  protesting  sigh. 
"I  am  so  sorry,"  she  said,  "it  has  been  most  inter 
esting.  I  never  met  two  men  who  had  visited  so 
many  inaccessible  places  and  come  out  whole.  You 
have  quite  inspired  Mr.  King,  he  was  never  so 
amusing.  But  I  should  like  to  hear  the  end  of 
that  adventure;  won't  you  tell  it  to  me  in  the  other 
room?" 

Clay  bowed.  "If  I  haven't  thought  of  some 
thing  more  interesting  in  the  meantime,"  he  said. 

"What  I  can't  understand,"  said  King,  as  he 
moved  up  into  Miss  Langham's  place,  "is  how  you 
had  time  to  learn  so  much  of  the  rest  of  the  world. 

14 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

You  don't  act  like  a  man  who  had  spent  his  life 
in  the  brush." 

"How  do  you  mean?"  asked  Clay,  smiling — 
"that  I  don't  use  the  wrong  forks?" 

"No,"  laughed  King,  "but  you  told  us  that  this 
was  your  first  visit  East,  and  yet  you're  talking 
about  England  and  Vienna  and  Voisin's.  How  is 
it  you've  been  there,  while  you  have  never  been  in 
New  York?" 

"Well,  that's  partly  due  to  accident  and  partly 
to  design,"  Clay  answered.  "You  see  I've  worked 
for  English  and  German  and  French  companies, 
as  well  as  for  those  in  the  States,  and  I  go  abroad 
to  make  reports  and  to  receive  instructions.  And 
then  I'm  what  you  call  a  self-made  man;  that  is, 
I've  never  been  to  college.  I've  always  had  to 
educate  myself,  and  whenever  I  did  get  a  holiday 
it  seemed  to  me  that  I  ought  to  put  it  to  the  best 
advantage,  and  to  spend  it  where  civilization  was 
the  furthest  advanced — advanced,  at  least,  in  years. 
When  I  settle  down  and  become  an  expert,  and  de 
mand  large  sums  for  just  looking  at  the  work  other 
fellows  have  done,  then  I  hope  to  live  in  New  York, 
but  until  then  I  go  where  the  art  galleries  are  big 
gest  and  where  they  have  got  the  science  of  enjoy 
ing  themselves  down  to  the  very  finest  point.  I 
have  enough  rough  work  eight  months  of  the  year 
to  make  me  appreciate  that.  So  whenever  I  get 

15 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

a  few  months  to  myself  I  take  the  Royal  Mail  to 
London,  and  from  there  to  Paris  or  Vienna,  i 
think  I  like  Vienna  the  best.  The  directors  are 
generally  important  people  in  their  own  cities,  and 
they  ask  one  about,  and  so,  though  I  hope  1  am 
a  good  American,  it  happens  that  I've  more  friends 
on  the  Continent  than  in  the  United  States." 

"And  how  does  this  strike  you?"  asked  King, 
with  a  movement  of  his  shoulder  toward  the  men 
about  the  dismantled  table. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  laughed  Clay.  "You've 
lived  abroad  yourself;  how  does  it  strike  you?" 

Clay  was  the  first  man  to  enter  the  drawing- 
room.  He  walked  directly  away  from  the  others 
and  over  to  Miss  Langham,  and,  taking  her  fan 
out  of  her  hands  as  though  to  assure  himself  of 
some  hold  upon  her,  seated  himself  with  his  back 
to  every  one  else. 

"You  have  come  to  finish  that  story?"  she  said, 
smiling. 

Miss  Langham  was  a  careful  young  person,  and 
would  not  have  encouraged  a  man  she  knew  even 
as  well  as  she  knew  King,  to  talk  to  her  through 
dinner,  and  after  it  as  well.  She  fully  recognized 
that  because  she  was  conspicuous  certain  innocent 
pleasures  were  denied  her  which  other  girls  could 
enjoy  without  attracting  attention  or  comment.  But 
Clay  interested  her  beyond  her  usual  self,  and  the 

16 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

look  in  his  eyes  was  a  tribute  which  she  had  no 
wish  to  put  away  from  her. 

"I've  thought  of  something  more  interesting  to 
talk  about,"  said  Clay.  "I'm  going  to  talk  about 
you.  You  see  I've  known  you  a  long  time." 

"Since  eight  o'clock?"  asked  Miss  Langham. 

"Oh,  no,  since  your  coming  out,  four  years 
ago." 

"It's  not  polite  to  remember  so  far  back,"  she 
said.  "Were  you  one  of  those  who  assisted  at  that 
important  function?  There  were  so  many  there 
I  don't  remember." 

"No,  I  only  read  about  it.  I  remember  it  very 
well;  I  had  ridden  over  twelve  miles  for  the  mail 
that  day,  and  I  stopped  half-way  back  to  the  ranch 
and  camped  out  in  the  shade  of  a  rock  and  read 
all  the  papers  and  magazines  through  at  one  sit 
ting,  until  the  sun  went  down  and  I  couldn't  see 
the  print.  One  of  the  papers  had  an  account  of 
your  coming  out  in  it,  and  a  picture  of  you,  and 
I  wrote  East  to  the  photographer  for  the  original. 
It  knocked  about  the  West  for  three  months  and 
then  reached  me  at  Laredo,  on  the  border  between 
Texas  and  Mexico,  and  I  have  had  it  with  me 
ever  since." 

Miss  Langham  looked  at  Clay  for  a  moment  in 
silent  dismay  and  with  a  perplexed  smile. 

"Where  is  it  now?"  she  asked  at  last. 
17 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"In  my  trunk  at  the  hotel." 

"Oh,"  she  said,  slowly.  She  was  still  in  doubt 
as  to  how  to  treat  this  act  of  unconventionality. 
"Not  in  your  watch?"  she  said,  to  cover  up  the 
pause.  "That  would  have  been  more  in  keeping 
with  the  rest  of  the  story." 

The  young  man  smiled  grimly,  and  pulling  out 
his  watch  pried  back  the  lid  and  turned  it  to  her 
so  that  she  could  see  a  photograph  inside.  The 
face  in  the  watch  was  that  of  a  young  girl  in  the 
dress  of  a  fashion  of  several  years  ago.  It  was 
a  lovely,  frank  face,  looking  out  of  the  picture 
into  the  world  kindly  and  questioningly,  and  with 
out  fear. 

"Was  I  once  like  that?"  she  said,  lightly.  "Well, 
go  on." 

"Well,"  he  said,  with  a  little  sigh  of  relief,  "I 
became  greatly  interested  in  Miss  Alice  Langham, 
and  in  her  comings  out  and  goings  in,  and  in  her 
gowns.  Thanks  to  our  having  a  press  in  the  States 
that  makes  a  specialty  of  personalities,  I  was  able 
to  follow  you  pretty  closely,  for,  wherever  I  go, 
I  have  my  papers  sent  after  me.  I  can  get  along 
without  a  compass  or  a  medicine-chest,  but  I  can't 
do  without  the  newspapers  and  the  magazines. 
There  was  a  time  when  I  thought  you  were  going 
to  marry  that  Austrian  chap,  and  I  didn't  approve 
of  that.  I  knew  things  about  him  in  Vienna.  And 

18 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

then  I  read  of  your  engagement  to  others — well — • 
several  others;  some  of  them  I  thought  worthy, 
and  others  not.  Once  I  even  thought  of  writing 
you  about  it,  and  once  I  saw  you  in  Paris.  You 
were  passing  on  a  coach.  The  man  with  me  told 
me  it  was  you,  and  I  wanted  to  follow  the  coach 
in  a  fiacre,  but  he  said  he  knew  at  what  hotel  you 
were  stopping,  and  so  I  let  you  go,  but  you  were 
not  at  that  hotel,  or  at  any  other — at  least,  I 
couldn't  find  you." 

"What  would  you  have  done — ?"  asked  Miss 
Langham.  "Never  mind,"  she  interrupted,  "go 
on." 

"Well,  that's  all,"  said  Clay,  smiling.  "That's 
all,  at  least,  that  concerns  you.  That  is  the  ro 
mance  of  this  poor  young  man." 

"But  not  the  only  one,"  she  said,  for  the  sake 
of  saying  something. 

"Perhaps  not,"  answered  Clay,  "but  the  only 
one  that  counts.  I  always  knew  I  was  going  to 
meet  you  some  day.  And  now  I  have  met  you." 

"Well,  and  now  that  you  have  met  me,"  said 
Miss  Langham,  looking  at  him  in  some  amuse 
ment,  "are  you  sorry?" 

"No — "  said  Clay,  but  so  slowly  and  with  such 
consideration  that  Miss  Langham  laughed  and 
held  her  head  a  little  higher.  "Not  sorry  to  meet 
you,  but  to  meet  you  in  such  surroundings." 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"What  fault  do  you  find  with  my  surround 
ings?" 

"Well,  these  people,"  answered  Clay,  "they  are 
so  foolish,  so  futile.  You  shouldn't  be  here. 
There  must  be  something  else  better  than  this. 
You  can't  make  me  believe  that  you  choose  it. 
In  Europe  you  could  have  a  salon,  or  you 
could  influence  statesmen.  There  surely  must  be 
something  here  for  you  to  turn  to  as  well.  Some 
thing  better  than  golf-sticks  and  salted  al 
monds." 

"What  do  you  know  of  me?"  said  Miss  Lang- 
ham,  steadily.  "Only  what  you  have  read  of  me 
in  impertinent  paragraphs.  How  do  you  know  I 
am  fitted  for  anything  else  but  just  this?  You 
never  spoke  with  me  before  to-night." 

"That  has  nothing  to  do  with  it,"  said  Clay, 
quickly.  "Time  is  made  for  ordinary  people. 
When  people  who  amount  to  anything  meet  they 
don't  have  to  waste  months  in  finding  each  other 
out.  It  is  only  the  doubtful  ones  who  have  to  be 
tested  again  and  again.  When  I  was  a  kid  in  the 
diamond  mines  in  Kimberley,  I  have  seen  the  ex 
perts  pick  out  a  perfect  diamond  from  the  heap 
at  the  first  glance,  and  without  a  moment's  hesi 
tation.  It  was  the  cheap  stones  they  spent  most 
of  the  afternoon  over.  Suppose  I  have  only  seen 
you  to-night  for  the  first  time;  suppose  I  shall  not 

20 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

see  you  again,  which  is  quite  likely,  for  I  sail  to 
morrow  for  South  America — what  of  that?  I  am 
just  as  sure  of  what  you  are  as  though  I  had  known 
you  for  years." 

Miss  Langham  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  In 
silence.  Her  beauty  was  so  great  that  she  could 
take  her  time  to  speak.  She  was  not  afraid  of 
losing  any  one's  attention. 

"And  have  you  come  out  of  the  West,  knowing 
me  so  well,  just  to  tell  me  that  I  am  wasting  my 
self?"  she  said.  "Is  that  all?" 

"That  is  all,"  answered  Clay.  "You  know  the 
things  I  would  like  to  tell  you,"  he  added,  looking 
at  her  closely. 

"I  think  I  like  to  be  told  the  other  things  best," 
she  said,  "they  are  the  easier  to  believe." 

"You  have  to  believe  whatever  I  tell  you,"  said 
Clay,  smiling.  The  girl  pressed  her  hands  to 
gether  in  her  lap,  and  looked  at  him  curiously. 
The  people  about  them  were  moving  and  making 
their  farewells,  and  they  brought  her  back  to  the 
present  with  a  start. 

"I'm  sorry  you're  going  away,"  she  said.  "It 
has  been  so  odd.  You  come  suddenly  up  out  of 
the  wilderness,  and  set  me  to  thinking  and  try  to 
trouble  me  with  questions  about  myself,  and  then 
steal  away  again  without  stopping  to  help  me  to 
settle  them.  Is  it  fair?"  She  rose  and  put  out 

21 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

her  hand,  and  he  took  it  and  held  it  for  a  moment, 
while  they  stood  looking  at  one  another. 

"I  am  coming  back,"  he  said,  "and  I  will  find 
that  you  have  settled  them  for  yourself." 

"Good-by,"  she  said,  in  so  low  a  tone  that  the 
people  standing  near  them  could  not  hear.  "You 
haven't  asked  me  for  it,  you  know,  but — I  think 
I  shall  let  you  keep  that  picture." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Clay,  smiling,  "I  meant  to." 

"You  can  keep  it,"  she  continued,  turning  back, 
"because  it  is  not  my  picture.  It  is  a  picture  of 
a  girl  who  ceased  to  exist  four  years  ago,  and 
whom  you  have  never  met.  Good-night." 

Mr.  Langham  and  Hope,  his  younger  daughter, 
had  been  to  the  theatre.  The  performance  had 
been  one  which  delighted  Miss  Hope,  and  which 
satisfied  her  father  because  he  loved  to  hear  her 
laugh.  Mr.  Langham  was  the  slave  of  his  own 
good  fortune.  By  instinct  and  education  he  was 
a  man  of  leisure  and  culture,  but  the  wealth  he  had 
inherited  was  like  an  unruly  child  that  needed  his 
constant  watching,  and  in  keeping  it  well  in  hand 
he  had  become  a  man  of  business,  with  time  for 
nothing  else. 

Alice  Langham,  on  her  return  from  Mrs.  Por 
ter's  dinner,  found  him  in  his  study  engaged  with 
a  game  of  solitaire,  while  Hope  was  kneeling  on 

22 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

a  chair  beside  him  with  her  elbows  on  the  table. 
Mr.  Langham  had  been  troubled  with  insomnia 
of  late,  and  so  it  often  happened  that  when  Alice 
returned  from  a  ball  she  would  find  him  sitting 
with  a  novel,  or  his  game  of  solitaire,  and  Hope, 
who  had  crept  downstairs  from  her  bed,  dozing 
in  front  of  the  open  fire  and  keeping  him  silent 
company.  The  father  and  the  younger  daughter 
were  very  close  to  one  another,  and  had  grown 
especially  so  since  his  wife  had  died  and  his  son 
and  heir  had  gone  to  college.  This  fourth  mem 
ber  of  the  family  was  a  great  bond  of  sympathy 
and  interest  between  them,  and  his  triumphs  and 
escapades  at  Yale  were  the  chief  subjects  of  their 
conversation.  It  was  told  by  the  directors  of  a 
great  Western  railroad,  who  had  come  to  New 
York  to  discuss  an  important  question  with  Mr. 
Langham,  that  they  had  been  ushered  downstairs 
one  night  into  his  basement,  where  they  had  found 
the  President  of  the  Board  and  his  daughter  Hope 
working  out  a  game  of  football  on  the  billiard- 
table.  They  had  chalked  it  off  into  what  corre 
sponded  to  five-yard  lines,  and  they  were  hurling 
twenty-two  chess-men  across  it  in  "flying  wedges" 
and  practising  the  several  tricks  which  young  Lang- 
ham  had  intrusted  to  his  sister  under  an  oath  of 
secrecy.  The  sight  filled  the  directors  with  the 
horrible  fear  that  business  troubles  had  turned  the 

23 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

President's  mind,  but  after  they  had  sat  for  half 
an  hour  perched  on  the  high  chairs  around  the 
table,  while  Hope  excitedly  explained  the  game  to 
them,  they  decided  that  he  was  wiser  than  they 
knew,  and  each  left  the  house  regretting  he  had 
no  son  worthy  enough  to  bring  uthat  young  girl" 
into  the  Far  West. 

"You  are  home  early,"  said  Mr.  Langham,  as 
Alice  stood  above  him  pulling  at  her  gloves.  "I 
thought  you  said  you  were  going  on  to  some 
dance." 

"I  was  tired,"  his  daughter  answered. 

"Well,  when  I'm  out,"  commented  Hope,  "I 
won't  come  home  at  eleven  o'clock.  Alice  always 
was  a  quitter." 

"A  what?"  asked  the  older  sister. 

"Tell  us  what  you  had  for  dinner,"  said  Hope. 
"I  know  it  isn't  nice  to  ask,"  she  added,  hastily, 
"but  I  always  like  to  know." 

"I  don't  remember,"  Miss  Langham  answered, 
smiling  at  her  father,  "except  that  he  was  very 
much  sunburned  and  had  most  perplexing  eyes." 

"Oh,  of  course,"  assented  Hope,  "I  suppose 
you  mean  by  that  that  you  talked  with  some  man 
all  through  dinner.  Well,  I  think  there  is  a  time 
for  everything." 

"Father,"  interrupted  Miss  Langham,  "do  you 
know  many  engineers — I  mean  do  you  come  In 

24 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

contact  with  them  through  the  railroads  and  mines 
you  have  an  interest  in  ?  I  am  rather  curious  about 
them,"  she  said,  lightly.  "They  seem  to  be  a  most 
picturesque  lot  of  young  men." 

"Engineers?  Of  course,"  said  Mr.  Langham, 
vaguely,  with  the  ten  of  spades  held  doubtfully 
in  air.  "Sometimes  we  have  to  depend  upon  them 
altogether.  We  decide  from  what  the  engineering 
experts  tell  us  whether  we  will  invest  in  a  thing 
or  not." 

"I  don't  think  I  mean  the  big  men  of  the  pro 
fession,"  said  his  daughter,  doubtfully.  "I  mean 
those  who  do  the  rough  work.  The  men  who  dig 
the  mines  and  lay  out  the  railroads.  Do  you  know 
any  of  them?" 

"Some  of  them,"  said  Mr.  Langham,  leaning 
back  and  shuffling  the  cards  for  a  new  game. 
"Why?" 

"Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  Mr.  Robert  Clay?" 

Mr.  Langham  smiled  as  he  placed  the  cards  one 
above  the  other  in  even  rows.  "Very  often,"  he 
said.  "He  sails  to-rnorrow  to  open  up  the  largest 
iron  deposits  in  South  America.  He  goes  for  the 
Valencia  Mining  Company.  Valencia  is  the  cap 
ital  of  Olancho,  one  of  those  little  republics  down 
there." 

"Do  you — are  you  Interested  in  that  company?" 
asked  Miss  Langham,  seating  herself  before  the 

25 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

fire  and  holding  out  her  hands  toward  it.  "Does 
Mr.  Clay  know  that  you  are?" 

"Yes — I  am  interested  in  it,"  Mr.  Langham 
replied,  studying  the  cards  before  him,  "but  I  don't 
think  Clay  knows  it — nobody  knows  it  yet,  ex 
cept  the  president  and  the  other  officers."  He 
lifted  a  card  and  put  it  down  again  in  some  in 
decision.  "It's  generally  supposed  to  be  operated 
by  a  company,  but  all  the  stock  is  owned  by  one 
man.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  my  dear  children," 
exclaimed  Mr.  Langham,  as  he  placed  a  deuce  of 
clubs  upon  a  deuce  of  spades  with  a  smile  of  con 
tent,  "the  Valencia  Mining  Company  is  your  be 
loved  father." 

"Oh,"  said  Miss  Langham,  as  she  looked  stead 
ily  into  the  fire. 

Hope  tapped  her  lips  gently  with  the  back  of 
her  hand  to  hide  the  fact  that  she  was  sleepy,  and 
nudged  her  father's  elbow.  "You  shouldn't  have 
put  the  deuce  there,"  she  said,  "you  should  have 
used  it  to  build  with  on  the  ace." 


26 


II 


A  YEAR  before  Mrs.  Porter's  dinner  a  tramp 
steamer  on  her  way  to  the  capital  of  Bra 
zil  had  steered  so  close  to  the  shores  of  Olan- 
cho  that  her  solitary  passenger  could  look  into 
the  caverns  the  waves  had  tunnelled  in  the  lime 
stone  cliffs  along  the  coast.  The  solitary  passen 
ger  was  Robert  Clay,  and  he  made  a  guess  that 
the  white  palisades  which  fringed  the  base  of  the 
mountains  along  the  shore  had  been  forced  up 
above  the  level  of  the  sea  many  years  before  by 
some  volcanic  act'  >n.  Olancho,  as  many  people 
know,  is  situated  on  the  northeastern  coast  of 
South  America,  and  its  shores  are  washed  by  the 
main  equatorial  current.  From  the  deck  of  a  pass 
ing  vessel  you  can  obtain  but  little  idea  of  Olan 
cho  or  of  the  abundance  and  tropical  beauty 
which  lies  hidden  away  behind  the  rampart  of 
mountains  on  her  shore.  You  can  see  only  their 
desolate  dark-green  front,  and  the  white  caves 
at  their  base,  into  which  the  waves  rush  with 
an  echoing  roar,  and  in  and  out  of  which  fly  con 
tinually  thousands  of  frightened  bats.  The  min- 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

ing  engineer  on  the  rail  of  the  tramp  steamer  ob 
served  this  peculiar  formation  of  the  coast  with 
listless  interest,  until  he  noted,  when  the  vessel 
stood  some  thirty  miles  north  of  the  harbor  of 
Valencia,  that  the  limestone  formation  had  disap 
peared,  and  that  the  waves  now  beat  against  the 
base  of  the  mountains  themselves.  There  were 
five  of  these  mountains  which  jutted  out  into  the 
ocean,  and  they  suggested  roughly  the  five  knuckles 
of  a  giant  hand  clenched  and  lying  flat  upon  the 
surface  of  the  water.  They  extended  for  seven 
miles,  and  then  the  caverns  in  the  palisades  began 
again  and  continued  on  down  the  coast  to  the  great 
cliffs  that  guard  the  harbor  of  Olancho's  capital. 

"The  waves  tunnelled  their  way  easily  enough 
until  they  ran  up  against  those  five  mountains," 
mused  the  engineer,  "and  then  they  had  to  fall 
back."  He  walked  to  the  captain's  cabin  and 
asked  to  look  at  a  map  of  the  coast  line.  "I  be 
lieve  I  won't  go  to  Rio,"  he  said  later  in  the  day; 
"I  think  I  will  drop  off  here  at  Valencia." 

So  he  left  the  tramp  steamer  at  that  place  and 
disappeared  into  the  interior  with  an  ox-cart  and 
a  couple  of  pack-mules,  and  returned  to  write  a 
lengthy  letter  from  the  Consul's  office  to  a  Mr. 
Langham  in  the  United  States,  knowing  he  was 
largely  interested  in  mines  and  in  mining.  "There 
are  five  mountains  filled  with  ore,"  Clay  wrote, 

28 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"which  should  be  extracted  by  open-faced  work 
ings.  I  saw  great  masses  of  red  hematite  lying 
exposed  on  the  side  of  the  mountain,  only  waiting 
a  pick  and  shovel,  and  at  one  place  there  were  five 
thousand  tons  in  plain  sight.  I  should  call  the 
stuff  first-class  Bessemer  ore,  running  about  sixty- 
three  per  cent  metallic  iron.  The  people  know  it 
is  there,  but  have  no  knowledge  of  its  value,  and 
are  too  lazy  to  ever  work  it  themselves.  As  to 
transportation,  it  would  only  be  necessary  to  run 
a  freight  railroad  twenty  miles  along  the  sea-coast 
to  the  harbor  of  Valencia  and  dump  your  ore  from 
your  own  pier  into  your  own  vessels.  It  would 
not,  I  think,  be  possible  to  ship  direct  from  the 
mines  themselves,  even  though,  as  I  say,  the  ore 
runs  right  down  into  the  water,  because  there  is 
no  place  at  which  it  would  be  safe  for  a  large 
vessel  to  touch.  I  will  look  into  the  political  side 
of  it  and  see  what  sort  of  a  concession  I  can  get 
for  you.  I  should  think  ten  per  cent  of  the  out 
put  would  satisfy  them,  and  they  would,  of  course, 
admit  machinery  and  plant  free  of  duty." 

Six  months  after  this  communication  had  ar 
rived  in  New  York  City,  the  Valencia  Mining 
Company  was  formally  incorporated,  and  a  man 
named  Van  Antwerp,  with  two  hundred  workmen 
and  a  half-dozen  assistants,  was  sent  South  to  lay 
out  the  freight  railroad,  to  erect  the  dumping-pier, 

29 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

and  to  strip  the  five  mountains  of  their  forests  and 
underbrush.  It  was  not  a  task  for  a  holiday,  but 
a  stern,  difficult,  and  perplexing  problem,  and  Van 
Antwerp  was  not  quite  the  man  to  solve  it.  He 
was  stubborn,  self-confident,  and  indifferent  by 
turns.  He  did  not  depend  upon  his  lieutenants, 
but  jealously  guarded  his  own  opinions  from  the 
least  question  or  discussion,  and  at  every  step  he 
antagonized  the  easy-going  people  among  whom 
he  had  come  to  work.  He  had  no  patience  with 
their  habits  of  procrastination,  and  he  was  con 
tinually  offending  their  lazy  good-nature  and  their 
pride.  He  treated  the  rich  planters,  who  owned 
the  land  between  the  mines  and  the  harbor  over 
which  the  freight  railroad  must  run,  with  as  little 
consideration  as  he  showed  the  regiment  of  soldiers 
which  the  Government  had  farmed  out  to  the  com 
pany  to  serve  as  laborers  in  the  mines.  Six  months 
after  Van  Antwerp  had  taken  charge  at  Valencia, 
Clay,  who  had  finished  the  railroad  in  Mexico,  of 
which  King  had  spoken,  was  asked  by  telegraph 
to  undertake  the  work  of  getting  the  ore  out  of 
the  mountains  he  had  discovered,  and  shipping  it 
North.  He  accepted  the  offer  and  was  given  the 
title  of  General  Manager  and  Resident  Director, 
and  an  enormous  salary,  and  was  also  given  to  un 
derstand  that  the  rough  work  of  preparation  had 
been  accomplished,  and  that  the  more  important 

30 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

service  of  picking  up  the  five  mountains  and  put 
ting  them  in  fragments  into  tramp  steamers  would 
continue  under  his  direction.  He  had  a  letter  of 
recall  for  Van  Antwerp,  and  a  letter  of  introduc 
tion  to  the  Minister  of  Mines  and  Agriculture. 
Further  than  that  he  knew  nothing  of  the  work 
before  him,  but  he  concluded,  from  the  fact  that 
he  had  been  paid  the  almost  prohibitive  sum  he 
had  asked  for  his  services,  that  it  must  be  impor 
tant,  or  that  he  had  reached  that  place  in  his  career 
when  he  could  stop  actual  work  and  live  easily,  as 
an  expert,  on  the  work  of  others. 

Clay  rolled  along  the  coast  from  Valencia  to 
the  mines  in  a  paddle-wheeled  steamer  that  had 
served  its  usefulness  on  the  Mississippi,  and  which 
had  been  rotting  at  the  levees  in  New  Orleans, 
when  Van  Antwerp  had  chartered  it  to  carry  tools 
and  machinery  to  the  mines  and  to  serve  as  a  pri 
vate  launch  for  himself.  It  was  a  choice  either 
of  this  steamer  and  landing  in  a  small  boat,  or 
riding  along  the  line  of  the  unfinished  railroad  on 
horseback.  Either  route  consumed  six  valuable 
hours,  and  Clay,  who  was  anxious  to  see  his  new 
field  of  action,  beat  impatiently  upon  the  rail  of 
the  rolling  tub  as  it  wallowed  in  the  sea. 

He  spent  the  first  three  days  after  his  arrival  at 
the  mines  in  the  mountains,  climbing  them  on  foot 
and  skirting  their  base  on  horseback,  and  sleeping 

3* 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

where  night  overtook  him.  Van  Antwerp  did  not 
accompany  him  on  his  tour  of  inspection  through 
the  mines,  but  delegated  that  duty  to  an  engineer 
named  MacWilliams,  and  to  Weimer,  the  United 
States  Consul  at  Valencia,  who  had  served  the 
company  in  many  ways  and  who  was  in  its  closest 
confidence. 

For  three  days  the  men  toiled  heavily  over  fallen 
trunks  and  trees,  slippery  with  the  moss  of  cen 
turies,  or  slid  backward  on  the  rolling  stones  in 
the  waterways,  or  clung  to  their  ponies'  backs  to 
dodge  the  hanging  creepers.  At  times  for  hours 
together  they  walked  in  single  file,  bent  nearly 
double,  and  seeing  nothing  before  them  but  the 
shining  backs  and  shoulders  of  the  negroes  who 
hacked  out  the  way  for  them  to  go.  And  again 
they  would  come  suddenly  upon  a  precipice,  and 
drink  in  the  soft  cool  breath  of  the  ocean,  and 
look  down  thousands  of  feet  upon  the  impenetrable 
green  under  which  they  had  been  crawling,  out 
to  where  it  met  the  sparkling  surface  of  the  Carib 
bean  Sea.  It  was  three  days  of  unceasing  activity 
while  the  sun  shone,  and  of  anxious  questionings 
around  the  camp-fire  when  the  darkness  fell,  and 
when  there  were  no  sounds  on  the  mountain-side 
but  that  of  falling  water  in  a  distant  ravine  or 
the  calls  of  the  night-birds. 

On  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day  Clay  and  his 
32 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

attendants  returned  to  camp  and  rode  to  where 
the  men  had  just  begun  to  blast  away  the  sloping 
surface  of  the  mountain. 

As  Clay  passed  between  the  zinc  sheds  and  palm 
huts  of  the  soldier-workmen,  they  came  running 
out  to  meet  him,  and  one,  who  seemed  to  be  a 
leader,  touched  his  bridle,  and  with  his  straw  som 
brero  in  his  hand  begged  for  a  word  with  el  Senor 
the  Director. 

The  news  of  Clay's  return  had  reached  the  open 
ing,  and  the  throb  of  the  dummy-engines  and  the 
roar  of  the  blasting  ceased  as  the  assistant-engi 
neers  came  down  the  valley  to  greet  the  new  man 
ager.  They  found  him  seated  on  his  horse  gazing 
ahead  of  him,  and  listening  to  the  story  of  the 
soldier,  whose  fingers,  as  he  spoke,  trembled  in  the 
air,  with  all  the  grace  and  passion  of  his  Southern 
nature,  while  back  of  him  his  companions  stood 
humbly,  in  a  silent  chorus,  with  eager,  supplicating 
eye?.  Clay  answered  the  man's  speech  curtly,  with 
a  few  short  words,  in  the  Spanish  patois  in  which 
he  had  been  addressed,  and  then  turned  and  smiled 
grimly  upon  the  expectant  group  of  engineers.  He 
kept  them  waiting  for  some  short  space,  while  he 
looked  them  over  carefully,  as  though  he  had  never 
seen  them  before. 

"Well,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "I'm  glad  to  have 
you  here  all  together.  I  am  only  sorry  you  didn't 

33 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

come  in  time  to  hear  what  this  fellow  has  had  to 
say.  I  don't  as  a  rule  listen  that  long  to  com 
plaints,  but  he  told  me  what  I  have  seen  for  myself 
and  what  has  been  told  me  by  others.  I  have  been 
here  three  days  now,  and  I  assure  you,  gentlemen, 
that  my  easiest  course  would  be  to  pack  up  my 
things  and  go  home  on  the  next  steamer.  I  was 
sent  down  here  to  take  charge  of  a  mine  in  active 
operation,  and  I  find — what?  I  find  that  in  six 
months  you  have  done  almost  nothing,  and  that 
the  little  you  have  condescended  to  do  has  been 
done  so  badly  that  it  will  have  to  be  done  over 
again;  that  you  have  not  only  wasted  a  half  year 
of  time — and  I  can't  tell  how  much  money — but 
that  you  have  succeeded  in  antagonizing  all  the 
people  on  whose  good-will  we  are  absolutely  de 
pendent;  you  have  allowed  your  machinery  to  rust 
in  the  rain,  and  your  workmen  to  rot  with  sick 
ness.  You  have  not  only  done  nothing,  but  you 
haven't  a  blue  print  to  show  me  what  you  meant 
to  do.  I  have  never  in  my  life  come  across  lazi 
ness  and  mismanagement  and  incompetency  upon 
such  a  magnificent  and  reckless  scale.  You  have 
not  built  the  pier,  you  have  not  opened  the  freight 
road,  you  have  not  taken  out  an  ounce  of  ore. 
You  know  more  of  Valencia  than  you  know  of 
these  mines;  you  know  it  from  the  Alameda  to  the 
Canal.  You  can  tell  me  what  night  the  band  plays 

34 


Soldiers   of  Fortune 

in  the  Plaza,  but  you  can't  give  me  the  elevation 
of  one  of  these  hills.  You  have  spent  your  days 
on  the  pavements  in  front  of  cafes,  and  your 
nights  in  dance-halls,  and  you  have  been  drawing 
salaries  every  month.  I've  more  respect  for  these 
half-breeds  that  you've  allowed  to  starve  in  this 
fever-bed  than  I  have  for  you.  You  have  treated 
them  worse  than  they'd  treat  a  dog,  and  if  any 
of  them  die,  it's  on  your  heads.  You  have  put 
them  in  a  fever-camp  which  you  have  not  even 
taken  the  trouble  to  drain.  Your  commissariat 
is  rotten,  and  you  have  let  them  drink  all  the 
rum  they  wanted.  There  is  not  one  of  you — •" 

The  group  of  silent  men  broke,  and  one  of  them 
stepped  forward  and  shook  his  forefinger  at  Clay. 

"No  man  can  talk  to  me  like  that,"  he  said, 
warningly,  "and  think  I'll  work  under  him.  I  re 
sign  here  and  now." 

"You  what —  '  cried  Clay,  "you  resign?" 

He  whirled  his  horse  round  with  a  dig  of  his 
spur  and  faced  them.  "How  dare  you  talk  of 
resigning?  I'll  pack  the  whole  lot  of  you  back 
to  New  York  on  the  first  steamer,  if  I  want  to, 
and  I'll  give  you  such  characters  that  you'll  be 
glad  to  get  a  job  carrying  a  transit.  You're  in 
no  position  to  talk  of  resigning  yet — not  one  of 
you.  Yes,"  he  added,  interrupting  himself,  "one 
of  you  is  MacWilliams,  the  man  who  had  charge 

35 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

of  the  railroad.  It's  no  fault  of  his  that  the  road's 
not  working,  I  understand  that  he  couldn't  get 
the  right  of  way  from  the  people  who  owned  the 
land,  but  I  have  seen  what  he  has  done,  and  his 
plans,  and  I  apologize  to  him — to  MacWilliams. 
As  for  the  rest  of  you,  I'll  give  you  a  month's 
trial.  It  will  be  a  month  before  the  next  steamer 
could  get  here  anyway,  and  I'll  give  you  that  long 
to  redeem  yourselves.  At  the  end  of  that  time 
we  will  have  another  talk,  but  you  are  here  now 
only  on  your  good  behavior  and  on  my  sufferance. 
Good-morning." 

As  Clay  had  boasted,  he  was  not  the  man  to 
throw  up  his  position  because  he  found  the  part 
he  had  to  play  was  not  that  of  leading  man,  but 
rather  one  of  general  utility,  and  although  it  had 
been  several  years  since  it  had  been  part  of  his 
duties  to  oversee  the  setting  up  of  machinery,  and 
the  policing  of  a  mining  camp,  he  threw  himself 
as  earnestly  into  the  work  before  him  as  though 
to  show  his  subordinates  that  it  did  not  matter 
who  did  the  work,  so  long  as  it  was  done.  The 
men  at  first  were  sulky,  resentful,  and  suspicious, 
but  they  could  not  long  resist  the  fact  that  Clay 
was  doing  the  work  of  five  men  and  five  different 
kinds  of  work,  not  only  without  grumbling,  but 
apparently  with  the  keenest  pleasure.  He  concili 
ated  the  rich  coffee  planters  who  owned  the  land 

36 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

which  he  wanted  for  the  freight  road  by  calls  of 
the  most  formal  state  and  dinners  of  much  less  for 
mality,  for  he  saw  that  the  iron  mine  had  its  social 
as  well  as  its  political  side.  And  with  this  fact  in 
mind,  he  opened  the  railroad  with  great  ceremony, 
and  much  music  and  feasting,  and  the  first  piece 
of  ore  taken  out  of  the  mine  was  presented  to  the 
wife  of  the  Minister  of  the  Interior  in  a  cluster 
of  diamonds,  which  made  the  wives  of  the  other 
members  of  the  Cabinet  regret  that  their  husbands 
had  not  chosen  that  portfolio.  Six  months  fol 
lowed  of  hard,  unremitting  work,  during  which 
time  the  great  pier  grew  out  into  the  bay  from 
MacWilliams'  railroad,  and  the  face  of  the  first 
mountain  was  scarred  and  torn  of  its  green,  and 
left  in  mangled  nakedness,  while  the  ringing  of 
hammers  and  picks,  and  the  racking  blasts  of  dyna 
mite,  and  the  warning  whistles  of  the  dummy-en 
gines  drove  away  the  accumulated  silence  of  cen 
turies. 

It  had  been  a  long  uphill  fight,  and  Clay  had 
enjoyed  it  mightily.  Two  unexpected  events  had 
contributed  to  help  it.  One  was  the  arrival  in 
Valencia  of  young  Teddy  Langham,  who  came 
ostensibly  to  learn  the  profession  of  which  Clay 
wras  so  conspicuous  an  example,  and  in  reality  to 
watch  over  his  father's  interests.  He  was  put  at 
Clay's  elbow,  and  Clay  made  him  learn  in  spite 

37 


Soldiers  or  Fortune 

of  himself,  for  he  ruled  him  and  MacWilliams, 
of  both  of  whom  he  was  very  fond,  as  though,  so 
they  complained,  they  were  the  laziest  and  the  most 
rebellious  members  of  his  entire  staff.  The  second 
event  of  importance  was  the  announcement  made 
one  day  by  young  Langham  that  his  father's  physi 
cian  had  ordered  rest  in  a  mild  climate,  and  that 
he  and  his  daughters  were  coming  in  a  month  to 
spend  the  winter  in  Valencia,  and  to  see  how  the 
son  and  heir  had  developed  as  a  man  of  business. 
The  idea  of  Mr.  Langham's  coming  to  visit 
Olancho  to  inspect  his  new  possessions  was  not  a 
surprise  to  Clay.  It  had  occurred  to  him  as  possi 
ble  before,  especially  after  the  son  had  come  to 
join  them  there.  The  place  was  interesting  and 
beautiful  enough  in  itself  to  justify  a  visit,  and  it 
was  only  a  ten  days'  voyage  from  New  York.  But 
he  had  never  considered  the  chance  of  Miss  Lang- 
ham's  coming,  and  when  that  was  now  not  only 
possible  but  a  certainty,  he  dreamed  of  little  else. 
He  lived  as  earnestly  and  toiled  as  indefatigably 
as  before,  but  the  place  was  utterly  transformed 
for  him.  He  saw  it  now  as  she  would  see  it  when 
she  came,  even  while  at  the  same  time  his  own 
eyes  retained  their  point  of  view.  It  was  as  though 
he  had  lengthened  the  focus  of  a  glass,  and  looked 
beyond  at  what  was  beautiful  and  picturesque,  in 
stead  of  what  was  near  at  hand  and  practicable. 

38 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

He  found  himself  smiling  with  anticipation  of  her 
pleasure  in  the  orchids  hanging  from  the  dead 
trees,  high  above  the  opening  of  the  mine,  and  in 
the  parrots  hurling  themselves  like  gayly  colored 
missiles  among  the  vines;  and  he  considered  the 
harbor  at  night  with  its  colored  lamps  floating  on 
the  black  water  as  a  scene  set  for  her  eyes.  He 
planned  the  dinners  that  he  would  give  in  her 
honor  on  the  balcony  of  the  great  restaurant  in 
the  Plaza  on  those  nights  when  the  band  played, 
and  the  senoritas  circled  in  long  lines  between  ad 
miring  rows  of  officers  and  caballeros.  And  he 
imagined  how,  when  the  ore-boats  had  been  filled 
and  his  work  had  slackened,  he  would  be  free  to 
ride  with  her  along  the  rough  mountain  roads,  be 
tween  magnificent  pillars  of  royal  palms,  or  to 
venture  forth  in  excursions  down  the  bay,  to  ex 
plore  the  caves  and  to  lunch  on  board  the  rolling 
paddle-wheel  steamer,  which  he  would  have  re 
painted  and  gilded  for  her  coming.  He  pictured 
himself  acting  as  her  guide  over  the  great  mines, 
answering  her  simple  questions  about  the  strange 
machinery,  and  the  crew  of  workmen,  and  the  local 
government  by  which  he  ruled  two  thousand  men. 
It  was  not  on  account  of  any  personal  pride  in 
the  mines  that  he  wanted  her  to  see  them,  it  was 
not  because  he  had  discovered  and  planned  and 
opened  them  that  he  wished  to  show  them  to  her, 

39 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

but  as  a  curious  spectacle  that  he  hoped  would  give 
her  a  moment's  interest. 

But  his  keenest  pleasure  was  when  young  Lang- 
ham  suggested  that  they  should  build  a  house  for 
his  people  on  the  edge  of  the  hill  that  jutted  out 
over  the  harbor  and  the  great  ore  pier.  If  this 
were  done,  Langham  urged,  it  would  be  possible 
for  him  to  see  much  more  of  his  family  than  he 
would  be  able  to  do  were  they  installed  in  the 
city,  five  miles  away. 

"We  can  still  live  in  the  office  at  this  end  of  the 
railroad,"  the  boy  said,  "and  then  we  shall  have 
them  within  call  at  night  when  we  get  back  from 
work;  but  if  they  are  in  Valencia,  it  will  take  the 
greater  part  of  the  evening  going  there  and  all  of 
the  night  getting  back,  for  I  can't  pass  that  club 
under  three  hours.  It  will  keep  us  out  of  tempta 
tion." 

"Yes,  exactly,"  said  Clay,  with  a  guilty  smile, 
"it  will  keep  us  out  of  temptation." 

So  they  cleared  away  the  underbrush,  and  put 
a  double  force  of  men  to  work  on  what  was  to  be 
the  most  beautiful  and  comfortable  bungalow  on 
the  edge  of  the  harbor.  It  had  blue  and  green  and 
white  tiles  on  the  floors,  and  walls  of  bamboo,  and 
a  red  roof  of  curved  tiles  to  let  in  the  air,  and 
dragons'  heads  for  water-spouts,  and  verandas  as 
broad  as  the  house  itself.  There  was  an  open  couvt 

40 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

in  the  middle  hung  with  balconies  looking  down 
upon  a  splashing  fountain,  and  to  decorate  this 
patio,  they  levied  upon  people  for  miles  around 
for  tropical  plants  and  colored  mats  and  awnings. 
They  cut  down  the  trees  that  hid  the  view  of  the 
long  harbor  leading  from  the  sea  into  Valencia, 
and  planted  a  rampart  of  other  trees  to  hide  the 
iron-ore  pier,  and  they  sodded  the  raw  spots  where 
the  men  had  been  building,  until  the  place  was  as 
completely  transformed  as  though  a  fairy  had 
waved  her  wand  above  it. 

It  was  to  be  a  great  surprise,  and  they  were  all 
• — Clay,  MacWilliams,  and  Langham — as  keenly 
interested  in  it  as  though  each  were  preparing  it 
for  his  honeymoon.  They  would  be  walking  to 
gether  in  Valencia  when  one  would  say,  "We  ought 
to  have  that  for  the  house,"  and  without  question 
they  would  march  into  the  shop  together  and  order 
whatever  they  fancied  to  be  sent  out  to  the  house 
of  the  president  of  the  mines  on  the  hill.  They 
stocked  it  with  wine  and  linens,  and  hired  a  vo- 
lante  and  six  horses,  and  fitted  out  the  driver  with 
a  new  pair  of  boots  that  reached  above  his  knees, 
and  a  silver  jacket  and  a  sombrero  that  was  so 
heavy  with  braid  that  It  flashed  like  a  halo  about 
his  head  in  the  sunlight,  and  he  was  ordered  not 
to  wear  it  until  the  ladies  came,  under  penalty  of 
arrest.  It  delighted  Clay  to  find  that  it  was  only 

41 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

the  beautiful  things  and  the  fine  things  of  his  daily 
routine  that  suggested  her  to  him,  as  though  she 
could  not  be  associated  in  his  mind  with  anything 
less  worthy,  and  he  kept  saying  to  himself,  "She 
will  like  this  view  from  the  end  of  the  terrace," 
and  "This  will  be  her  favorite  walk,"  or  "She 
will  swing  her  hammock  here,"  and  "I  know  she 
will  not  fancy  the  rug  that  Weimer  chose." 

While  this  fairy  palace  was  growing  the  three 
men  lived  as  roughly  as  before  in  the  wooden  hut 
at  the  terminus  of  the  freight  road,  three  hundred 
yards  below  the  house,  and  hidden  from  it  by  an 
impenetrable  rampart  of  brush  and  Spanish  bay 
onet.  There  was  a  rough  road  leading  from  it 
to  the  city,  five  miles  away,  which  they  had  ex 
tended  still  farther  up  the  hill  to  the  Palms,  which 
was  the  name  Langham  had  selected  for  his  fa 
ther's  house.  And  when  it  was  finally  finished, 
they  continued  to  live  under  the  corrugated  zinc 
roof  of  their  office  building,  and  locking  up  the 
Palms,  left  it  in  charge  of  a  gardener  and  a  watch 
man  until  the  coming  of  its  rightful  owners. 

It  had  been  a  viciously  hot,  close  day,  and  even 
now  the  air  came  in  sickening  waves,  like  a  blast 
from  the  engine-room  of  a  steamer,  and  the  heat 
lightning  played  round  the  mountains  over  the  har 
bor  and  showed  the  empty  wharves,  and  the  black 
outlines  of  the  steamers,  and  the  white  front  of 

42 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

the  Custom-House,  and  the  long  half-circle  of 
twinkling  lamps  along  the  quay.  MacWilliams 
and  Langham  sat  panting  on  the  lower  steps  of 
the  office-porch  considering  whether  they  were  too 
lazy  to  clean  themselves  and  be  rowed  over  to  the 
city,  where,  as  it  was  Sunday  ,night,  was  promised 
much  entertainment.  They  had  been  for  the  last 
hour  trying  to  make  up  their  minds  as  to  this,  and 
appealing  to  Clay  to  stop  work  and  decide  for 
them.  But  he  sat  inside  at  a  table  figuring  and 
writing  under  the  green  shade  of  a  student's  lamp 
and  made  no  answer.  The  walls  of  Clay's  office 
were  of  unplaned  boards,  bristling  with  splinters, 
and  hung  with  blue  prints  and  outline  maps  of  the 
mine.  A  gaudily  colored  portrait  of  Madame  la 
Presidenta,  the  noble  and  beautiful  woman  whom 
Alvarez,  the  President  of  Olancho,  had  lately  man 
ried  in  Spain,  was  pinned  to  the  wall  above  ths 
table.  This  table,  with  its  green  oil-cloth  top,  and 
the  lamp,  about  which  winged  insects  beat  noisily, 
and  an  earthen  water-jar — from  which  the  water 
dripped  as  regularly  as  the  ticking  of  a  clock — 
were  the  only  articles  of  furniture  in  the  office. 
On  a  shelf  at  one  side  of  the  door  lay  the  men's 
machetes,  a  belt  of  cartridges,  and  a  revolver  in 
a  holster. 

Clay  rose  from  the  table  and  stood  in  the  light 
of  the  open  door,  stretching  himself  gingerly,  for 

43 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

his  joints  were  sore  and  stiff  with  fording  streams 
and  climbing  the  surfaces  of  rocks.  The  red  ore 
and  yellow  mud  of  the  mines  were  plastered  over 
his  boots  and  riding-breeches,  where  he  had  stood 
knee-deep  in  the  water,  and  his  shirt  stuck  to  him 
like  a  wet  bathing-suit,  showing  his  ribs  when  he 
breathed  and  the  curves  of  his  broad  chest.  A 
ring  of  burning  paper  and  hot  ashes  fell  from  his 
cigarette  to  his  breast  and  burnt  a  hole  through 
the  cotton  shirt,  and  he  let  it  lie  there  and  watched 
it  burn  with  a  grim  smile. 

"I  wanted  to  see,"  he  explained,  catching  the 
look  of  listless  curiosity  in  MacWilliams's  eye, 
"whether  there  was  anything  hotter  than  my  blood. 
It's  racing  around  like  boiling  water  in  a  pot." 

"Listen,"  said  Langham,  holding  up  his  hand. 
"There  goes  the  call  for  prayers  in  the  convent, 
and  now  it's  too  late  to  go  to  town.  I  am  glad, 
rather.  I'm  too  tired  to  keep  awake,  and  besides, 
they  don't  know  how  to  amuse  themselves  in  a 
civilized  way — at  least  not  in  my  way.  I  wish  I 
could  just  drop  in  at  home  about  now;  don't  you, 
MacWilliams?  Just  about  this  time  up  in  God's 
country  all  the  people  are  at  the  theatre,  or  they've 
just  finished  dinner  and  are  sitting  around  sipping 
cool  green  mint,  trickling  through  little  lumps  of 
ice.  What  I'd  like — "  he  stopped  and  shut  one 
eye  and  gazed,  with  his  head  on  one  side,  at  the 

44 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

unimaginative  MacWilliams — "what  I'd  like  to  do 
now,"  he  continued,  thoughtfully,  "would  be  to 
sit  in  the  front  row  at  a  comic  opera,  on  the  aisle. 
The  prima  donna  must  be  very,  very  beautiful,  and 
sing  most  of  her  songs  at  me,  and  there  must  be 
three  comedians,  all  good,  and  a  chorus  entirely 
composed  of  girls.  I  never  could  see  why  they 
have  men  in  the  chorus,  anyway.  No  one  ever 
looks  at  them.  Now  that's  where  I'd  like  to  be. 
What  would  you  like,  MacWilliams?" 

MacWilliams  was  a  type  with  which  Clay  was 
intimately  familiar,  but  to  the  college-bred  Lang- 
ham  he  was  a  revelation  and  a  joy.  He  came  from 
some  little  town  in  the  West,  and  had  learned  what 
he  knew  of  engineering  at  the  transit's  mouth,  after 
he  had  first  served  his  apprenticeship  by  cutting 
sage-brush  and  driving  stakes.  His  life  had  been 
spent  in  Mexico  and  Central  America,  and  he 
spoke  of  the  home  he  had  not  seen  in  ten  years 
with  the  aggressive  loyalty  of  the  confirmed  wan 
derer,  and  he  was  known  to  prefer  and  to  import 
canned  corn  and  canned  tomatoes  in  preference  to 
eating  the  wonderful  fruits  of  the  country,  because 
the  former  came  from  the  States  and  tasted  to  him 
of  home.  He  had  crowded  into  his  young  life  ex 
periences  that  would  have  shattered  the  nerves  of 
any  other  man  with  a  more  sensitive  conscience  and 
a  less  happy  sense  of  humor;  but  these  same  ex- 

45 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

periences  had  only  served  to  make  him  shrewd  and 
self-confident  and  at  his  ease  when  the  occasion 
or  difficulty  came. 

He  pulled  meditatively  on  his  pipe  and  consid 
ered  Langham's  question  deeply,  while  Clay  and 
the  younger  boy  sat  with  their  arms  upon  their 
knees  and  waited  for  his  decision  in  thoughtful 
silence. 

"I'd  like  to  go  to  the  theatre,  too,"  said  Mac- 
Williams,  with  an  air  as  though  to  show  that  he 
also  was  possessed  of  artistic  tastes.  "I'd  like  to 
see  a  comical  chap  I  saw  once  in  '80 — oh,  long 
ago — before  I  joined  the  P.  Q.  &  M.  He  was 
funny.  His  name  was  Owens;  that  was  his  name, 
John  E.  Owens — " 

"Oh,  for  heaven's  sake,  MacWilliams,"  pro 
tested  Langham,  in  dismay;  "he's  been  dead  for 
five  years." 

"Has  he?"  said  MacWilliams,  thoughtfully. 
"Well—  '  he  concluded,  unabashed,  "I  can't  help 
that,  he's  the  one  I'd  like  to  see  best." 

"You  can  have  another  wish,  Mac,  you  know," 
urged  Langham,  "can't  he,  Clay?" 

Clay  nodded  gravely,  and  MacWilliams  frowned 
again  in  thought.  "No,"  he  said  after  an  effort, 
"Owens,  John  E.  Owens;  that's  the  one  I  want  to 
see." 

"Well,  now  I  want  another  wish,  too,"  said 
46 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

Langham.  "I  move  we  can  each  have  two  wishes. 
1  wish—" 

"Wait  until  I've  had  mine,"  said  Clay.  "You've 
had  one  turn.  I  want  to  be  in  a  place  I  know  in 
Vienna.  It's  not  hot  like  this,  but  cool  and  fresh. 
It's  an  open,  out-of-door  concert-garden,  with  hun 
dreds  of  colored  lights  and  trees,  and  there's  al 
ways  a  breeze  coming  through.  And  Eduard 
Strauss,  the  son,  you  know,  leads  the  orchestra 
there,  and  they  play  nothing  but  waltzes,  and  he 
stands  in  front  of  them,  and  begins  by  raising  him 
self  on  his  toes,  and  then  he  lifts  his  shoulders 
gently — and  then  sinks  back  again  and  raises  his 
baton  as  though  he  were  drawing  the  music  out 
after  it,  and  the  whole  place  seems  to  rock  and 
move.  It's  like  being  picked  up  and  carried  on 
the  deck  of  a  yacht  over  great  waves;  and  all 
around  you  are  the  beautiful  Viennese  women  and 
those  tall  Austrian  officers  in  their  long,  blue  coats 
and  flat  hats  and  silver  swords.  And  there  are 
cool  drinks —  "  continued  Clay,  with  his  eyes  fixed 
on  the  coming  storm — "all  sorts  of  cool  drinks — • 
in  high,  thin  glasses,  full  of  ice,  all  the  ice  you 
want — " 

"Oh,  drop  it,  will  you?"  cried  Langham,  with 
a  shrug  of  his  damp  shoulders.  "I  can't  stand 
it.  I'm  parching." 

"Wait  a  minute,"  interrupted  MacWilliams, 
47 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

leaning  forward  and  looking  into  the  night.  "Some 
one's  coming."  There  was  a  sound  down  the  road 
of  hoofs  and  the  rattle  of  the  land-crabs  as  they 
scrambled  off  into  the  bushes,  and  two  men  on 
horseback  came  suddenly  out  of  the  darkness  and 
drew  rein  in  the  light  from  the  open  door.  The 
first  was  General  Mendoza,  the  leader  of  the  Op 
position  in  the  Senate,  and  the  other,  his  orderly. 
The  General  dropped  his  Panama  hat  to  his  knee 
and  bowed  in  the  saddle  three  times. 

"Good-evening,  your  Excellency,"  said  Clay, 
rising.  "Tell  that  peon  to  get  my  coat,  will  you?" 
he  added,  turning  to  Langham.  Langham  clapped 
his  hands,  and  the  clanging  of  a  guitar  ceased,  and 
their  servant  and  cook  came  out  from  the  back 
of  the  hut  and  held  the  General's  horse  while  he 
dismounted.  "Wait  until  I  get  you  a  chair,"  said 
Clay.  "You'll  find  those  steps  rather  bad  for 
white  duck." 

"I  am  fortunate  in  finding  you  at  home,"  said 
the  officer,  smiling,  and  showing  his  white  teeth. 
"The  telephone  is  not  working.  I  tried  at  the 
club,  but  I  could  not  call  you." 

"It's  the  storm,  I  suppose,"  Clay  answered,  as 
he  struggled  into  his  jacket.  "Let  me  offer  you 
something  to  drink."  He  entered  the  house,  and 
returned  with  several  bottles  on  a  tray  and  a  bun 
dle  of  cigars.  The  Spanish-American  poured  him- 

48 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

self  out  a  glass  of  water,  mixing  it  with  Jamaica 
rum,  and  said,  smiling  again,  "It  is  a  saying  of 
your  countrymen  that  when  a  man  first  comes  to 
Olancho  he  puts  a  little  rum  into  his  water,  and 
that  when  he  is  here  some  time  he  puts  a  little 
water  in  his  rum." 

"Yes,"  laughed  Clay.    "I'm  afraid  that's  true." 

There  was  a  pause  while  the  men  sipped  at  their 
glasses,  and  looked  at  the  horses  and  the  orderly. 
The  clanging  of  the  guitar  began  again  from  the 
kitchen.  "You  have  a  very  beautiful  view  here 
of  the  harbor,  yes,"  said  Mendoza.  He  seemed 
to  enjoy  the  pause  after  his  ride,  and  to  be  in  no 
haste  to  begin  on  the  object  of  his  errand.  Mac- 
Williams  and  Langham  eyed  each  other  covertly, 
and  Clay  examined  the  end  of  his  cigar,  and  they 
all  waited. 

"And  how  are  the  mines  progressing,  eh?" 
asked  the  officer,  genially.  "You  find  much  good 
iron  in  them,  they  tell  me." 

"Yes,  we  are  doing  very  well,"  Clay  assented; 
"it  was  difficult  at  first,  but  now  that  things  are 
in  working  order,  we  are  getting  out  about  ten 
thousand  tons  a  month.  We  hope  to  increase  that 
soon  to  twenty  thousand  when  the  new  openings 
are  developed  and  our  shipping  facilities  are  in 
better  shape." 

"So  much!"  exclaimed  the  General,  pleasantly. 
49 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"Of  which  the  Government  of  my  country  is  to 
get  its  share  of  ten  per  cent — one  thousand  tons! 
It  is  munificent !"  He  laughed  and  shook  his  head 
slyly  at  Clay,  who  smiled  in  dissent. 

"But  you  see,  sir,"  said  Clay,  "you  cannot  blame 
us.  The  mines  have  always  been  there,  before 
this  Government  came  in,  before  the  Spaniards 
were  here,  before  there  was  any  Government  at 
all,  but  there  was  not  the  capital  to  open  them  up, 
I  suppose,  or — and  it  needed  a  certain  energy  to 
begin  the  attack.  Your  people  let  the  chance  go, 
and,  as  it  turned  out,  I  think  they  were  very  wise 
in  doing  so.  They  get  ten  per  cent  of  the  output. 
That's  ten  per  cent  on  nothing,  for  the  mines  really 
didn't  exist,  as  far  as  you  were  concerned,  until 
we  came,  did  they?  They  were  just  so  much 
waste  land,  and  they  would  have  remained  so. 
And  look  at  the  price  we  paid  down  before  we 
cut  a  tree.  Three  millions  of  dollars;  that's  a 
good  deal  of  money.  It  will  be  some  time  before 
we  realize  anything  on  that  investment." 

Mendoza  shook  his  head  and  shrugged  his 
shoulders.  "I  will  be  frank  with  you,"  he  said, 
with  the  air  of  one  to  whom  dissimulation  is  diffi 
cult.  "I  come  here  to-night  on  an  unpleasant  er 
rand,  but  it  is  with  me  a  matter  of  duty,  and  I 
am  a  soldier,  to  whom  duty  is  the  foremost  ever. 
I  have  come  to  tell  you,  Mr.  Clay,  that  we,  the 

So 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

Opposition,  are  not  satisfied  with  the  manner  in 
which  the  Government  has  disposed  of  these  great 
iron  deposits.  When  I  say  not  satisfied,  my  dear 
friend,  I  speak  most  moderately.  I  should  say 
that  we  are  surprised  and  indignant,  and  we  are 
determined  the  wrong  it  has  done  our  country 
shall  be  righted.  I  have  the  honor  to  have  been 
chosen  to  speak  for  our  party  on  this  most  im 
portant  question,  and  on  next  Tuesday,  sir,"  the 
General  stood  up  and  bowed,  as  though  he  were 
before  a  great  assembly,  "I  will  rise  in  the  Senate 
and  move  a  vote  of  want  of  confidence  in  the  Gov 
ernment  for  the  manner  in  which  it  has  given  away 
the  richest  possessions  in  the  storehouse  of  my 
country,  giving  it  not  only  to  aliens,  but  for  a 
pittance,  for  a  share  which  is  not  a  share,  but  a 
bribe,  to  blind  the  eyes  of  the  people.  It  has 
been  a  shameful  bargain,  and  I  cannot  say  who  is 
to  blame;  I  accuse  no  one.  But  I  suspect,  and  I 
will  demand  an  investigation;  I  will  demand  that 
the  value  not  of  one-tenth,  but  of  one-half  of  all 
the  iron  that  your  company  takes  out  of  Olancho 
shall  be  paid  into  the  treasury  of  the  State.  And 
I  come  to  you  to-night,  as  the  Resident  Director, 
to  inform  you  beforehand  of  my  intention.  I  do 
not  wish  to  take  you  unprepared.  I  do  not  blame 
your  people ;  they  are  business  men,  they  know  how 
to  make  good  bargains,  they  get  what  they  best 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

can.  That  is  the  rule  of  trade,  but  they  have 
gone  too  far,  and  I  advise  you  to  communicate 
with  your  people  in  New  York  and  learn  what  they 
are  prepared  to  offer  now — now  that  they  have  to 
deal  with  men  who  do  not  consider  their  own 
interests  but  the  interests  of  their  country." 

Mendoza  made  a  sweeping  bow  and  seated  him 
self,  frowning  dramatically,  with  folded  arms.  His 
voice  still  hung  in  the  air,  for  he  had  spoken  as 
earnestly  as  though  he  imagined  himself  already 
standing  in  the  hall  of  the  Senate  championing 
the  cause  of  the  people. 

MacWilliams  looked  up  at  Clay  from  where  he 
sat  on  the  steps  below  him,  but  Clay  did  not  notice 
him,  and  there  was  no  sound,  except  the  quick 
sputtering  of  the  nicotine  in  Langham's  pipe,  at 
which  he  pulled  quickly,  and  which  was  the  only 
outward  sign  the  boy  gave  of  his  interest.  Clay 
shifted  one  muddy  boot  over  the  other  and  leaned 
back  with  his  hands  stuck  in  his  belt. 

"Why  didn't  you  speak  of  this  sooner?"  he 
asked. 

"Ah,  yes,  that  is  fair,"  said  the  General,  quick 
ly.  "I  know  that  it  is  late,  and  I  regret  it,  and 
I  see  that  we  cause  you  inconvenience;  but  how 
could  I  speak  sooner  when  I  was  ignorant  of  what 
was  going  on?  I  have  been  away  with  my  troops. 
I  am  a  soldier  first,  a  politician  after.  During  the 

52 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

last  year  I  have  been  engaged  in  guarding  the  fron 
tier.  No  news  comes  to  a  General  in  the  field 
moving  from  camp  to  camp  and  always  in  the 
saddle;  but  I  may  venture  to  hope,  sir,  that  news 
has  come  to  you  of  me?" 

Clay  pressed  his  lips  together  and  bowed  his 
head. 

"We  have  heard  of  your  victories,  General, 
yes,"  he  said;  "and  on  your  return  you  say  you 
found  things  had  not  been  going  to  your  liking?" 

"That  is  it,"  assented  the  other,  eagerly.  "I 
find  that  indignation  reigns  on  every  side.  I  find 
my  friends  complaining  of  the  railroad  which  you 
run  across  their  land.  I  find  that  fifteen  hundred 
soldiers  are  turned  into  laborers,  with  picks  and 
spades,  working  by  the  side  of  negroes  and  your 
Irish;  they  have  not  been  paid  their  wages,  and 
they  have  been  fed  worse  than  though  they  were 
on  the  march;  sickness  and — " 

Clay  moved  impatiently  and  dropped  his  boot 
heavily  on  the  porch.  "That  was  true  at  first," 
he  interrupted,  "but  it  is  not  so  now.  I  should 
be  glad,  General,  to  take  you  over  the  men's  quar 
ters  at  any  time.  As  for  their  not  having  been 
paid,  they  were  never  paid  by  their  own  Govern 
ment  before  they  came  to  us  and  for  the  same  rea 
son,  because  the  petty  officers  kept  back  the  money, 
just  as  they  have  always  done.  But  the  men  are 

53 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

paid  now.     However,  this  is  not  of  the  most  im 
portance.     Who  is  it  that  complains  of  the  terms 
of  our  concession?" 

"Every  one !"  exclaimed  Mendoza,  throwing 
out  his  arms,  "and  they  ask,  moreover,  this:  they 
ask  why,  if  this  mine  is  so  rich,  why  was  not  the 
stock  offered  here  to  us  in  this  country  ?  Why  was 
it  not  put  on  the  market,  that  any  one  might  buy? 
We  have  rich  men  in  Olancho,  why  should  not  they 
benefit  first  of  all  others  by  the  wealth  of  their 
own  lands  ?  But  no !  we  are  not  asked  to  buy. 
All  the  stock  is  taken  in  New  York,  no  one  benefits 
but  the  State,  and  it  receives  only  ten  per  cent. 
It  is  monstrous!" 

"I  see,"  said  Clay,  gravely.  "That  had  not  oc^ 
curred  to  me  before.  They  feel  they  have  been 
slighted.  I  see."  He  paused  for  a  moment  as 
if  in  serious  consideration.  "Well,"  he  added, 
"that  might  be  arranged." 

He  turned  and  jerked  his  head  toward  the  open 
door.  "If  you  boys  mean  to  go  to  town  to-night, 
you'd  better  be  moving,"  he  said.  The  two  men 
rose  together  and  bowed  silently  to  their  guest. 

"I  should  like  if  Mr.  Langham  would  remain 
a  moment  with  us,"  said  Mendoza,  politely.  "I 
understand  that  it  is  his  father  who  controls  the 
stock  of  the  company.  If  we  discuss  any  arrange 
ment  it  might  be  well  if  he  were  here." 

54 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

Clay  was  sitting  with  his  chin  on  his  breast,  and 
he  did  not  look  up,  nor  did  the  young  man  turn 
to  him  for  any  prompting.  "I'm  not  down  here 
as  my  father's  son,"  he  said,  "I  am  an  employee 
of  Mr.  Clay's.  He  represents  the  company. 
Good-night,  sir." 

"You  think,  then,"  said  Clay,  "that  if  your 
friends  were  given  an  opportunity  to  subscribe 
to  the  stock  they  would  feel  less  resentful  toward 
us?  They  would  think  it  was  fairer  to  all?" 

"I  know  it,"  said  Mendoza;  "why  should  the 
stock  go  out  of  the  country  when  those  living  here 
are  able  to  buy  it?" 

"Exactly,"  said  Clay,  "of  course.  Can  you  tell 
me  this,  General?  Are  the  gentlemen  who  want 
to  buy  stock  in  the  mine  the  same  men  who  are 
in  the  Senate?  The  men  who  are  objecting  to  the 
terms  of  our  concession?" 

"With  a  few  exceptions  they  are  the  same  men." 

Clay  looked  out  over  the  harbor  at  the  lights 
of  the  town,  and  the  General  twirled  his  hat  around 
his  knee  and  gazed  with  appreciation  at  the  stars 
above  him. 

"Because  if  they  are,"  Clay  continued,  "and 
they  succeed  in  getting  our  share  cut  down  from 
ninety  per  cent  to  fifty  per  cent,  they  must  see  that 
the  stock  would  be  worth  just  forty  per  cent  less 
than  it  is  now." 

55 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"That  is  true,"  assented  the  other.  "I  have 
thought  of  that,  and  if  the  Senators  in  Opposition 
were  given  a  chance  to  subscribe,  I  am  sure  they 
would  see  that  it  is  better  wisdom  to  drop  their 
objections  to  the  concession,  and  as  stockholders 
allow  you  to  keep  ninety  per  cent  of  the  output. 
And,  again,"  continued  Mendoza,  "it  is  really  bet 
ter  for  the  country  that  the  money  should  go  to  its 
people  than  that  it  should  be  stored  up  in  the 
vaults  of  the  treasury,  when  there  is  always  the 
danger  that  the  President  will  seize  it;  or,  if  not 
this  one,  the  next  one." 

"I  should  think — that  is — it  seems  to  me,"  said 
Clay  with  careful  consideration,  "that  your  Ex 
cellency  might  be  able  to  render  us  great  help  in 
this  matter  yourself.  We  need  a  friend  among 
the  Opposition.  In  fact — I  see  where  you  could 
assist  us  in  many  ways,  where  your  services  would 
be  strictly  in  the  line  of  your  public  duty  and  yet 
benefit  us  very  much.  Of  course  I  cannot  speak 
authoritatively  without  first  consulting  Mr.  Lang- 
ham;  but  I  should  think  he  would  allow  you  per 
sonally  to  purchase  as  large  a  block  of  the  stock 
as  you  could  wish,  either  to  keep  yourself  or  to 
resell  and  distribute  among  those  of  your  friends 
in  Opposition  where  it  would  do  the  most  good." 

Clay  looked  over  inquiringly  to  where  Men 
doza  sat  in  the  light  of  the  open  door,  and  the 

56 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

General  smiled  faintly,  and  emitted  a  pleased  lit 
tle  sigh  of  relief.  "Indeed,"  continued  Clay,  "I 
should  think  Mr.  Langham  might  even  save  you 
the  formality  of  purchasing  the  stock  outright  by 
sending  you  its  money  equivalent:.  I  beg  your 
pardon,"  he  asked,  interrupting  himself,  "does 
your  orderly  understand  English?" 

"He  does  not,"  the  General  assured  him,  eager 
ly,  dragging  his  chair  a  little  closer. 

"Suppose  now  that  Mr.  Langham  were  to  put 
fifty  or  let  us  say  sixty  thousand  dollars  to  your 
account  in  the  Valencia  Bank,  do  you  think  this 
vote  of  want  of  confidence  in  the  Government  on 
the  question  of  our  concession  would  still  be 
moved?" 

"I  am  sure  it  would  not,"  exclaimed  the  leader 
of  the  Opposition,  nodding  his  head  violently. 

"Sixty  thousand  dollars,"  repeated  Clay,  slowly, 
"for  yourself;  and  do  you  think,  General,  that 
were  you  paid  that  sum  you  would  be  able  to  call 
off  your  friends,  or  would  they  make  a  demand 
for  stock  also?" 

"Have  no  anxiety  at  all,  they  do  just  what  1 
say,"  returned  Mendoza,  in  an  eager  whisper.  "If 
I  say  'It  is  all  right,  I  am  satisfied  with  what  the 
Government  has  done  in  my  absence,'  it  is  enough. 
And  I  will  say  it,  I  give  you  the  word  of  a  sol 
dier,  I  will  say  it.  1  will  not  move  a  vote  of  want 

57 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

of  confidence  on  Tuesday.  You  need  go  no  far 
ther  than  myself.  I  am  glad  that  I  am  powerful 
enough  to  serve  you,  and  if  you  doubt  me" — he 
struck  his  heart  and  bowed  with  a  deprecatory 
smile — "you  need  not  pay  in  the  money  in  ex 
change  for  the  stock  all  at  the  same  time.  You 
can  pay  ten  thousand  this  year,  and  next  year  ten 
thousand  more  and  so  on,  and  so  feel  confident 
that  I  shall  have  the  interests  of  the  mine  always 
in  my  heart.  Who  knows  what  may  not  happen 
in  a  year?  I  may  be  able  to  serve  you  even  more. 
Who  knows  how  long  the  present  Government 
will  last?  But  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor,  no 
matter  whether  I  be  in  Opposition  or  at  the  head 
of  the  Government,  if  I  receive  every  six  months 
the  retaining  fee  of  which  you  speak,  I  will  be 
your  representative.  And  my  friends  can  do  noth 
ing.  I  despise  them.  /  am  the  Opposition.  You 
have  done  well,  rny  dear  sir,  to  consider  me 
alone." 

Clay  turned  in  his  chair  and  looked  back  of  him 
through  the  office  to  the  room  beyond. 

"Boys,"  he  called,  "you  can  come  out  now." 
He  rose  and  pushed  his  chair  away  and  beck 
oned  to  the  orderly  who  sat  in  the  saddle  holding 
the  General's  horse.  Langham  and  MacWilliams 
came  out  and  stood  in  the  open  door,  and  Men« 
doza  rose  and  looked  at  Clay. 

58 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"You  can  go  now,"  Clay  said  to  him,  quietly. 
"And  you  can  rise  in  the  Senate  on  Tuesday  and 
move  your  vote  of  want  of  confidence  and  object  to 
our  concession,  and  when  you  have  resumed  your 
seat  the  Secretary  of  Mines  will  rise  in  his  turn  and 
tell  the  Senate  how  you  stole  out  here  in  the  night 
and  tried  to  blackmail  me,  and  begged  me  to  bribe 
you  to  be  silent,  and  that  you  offered  to  throw 
over  your  friends  and  to  take  all  that  we  would 
give  you  and  keep  it  yourself.  That  will  make 
you  popular  with  your  friends,  and  will  show  the 
Government  just  what  sort  of  a  leader  it  has  work 
ing  against  it." 

Clay  took  a  step  forward  and  shook  his  finger 
in  the  officer's  face.  "Try  to  break  that  conces 
sion;  try  it.  It  was  made  by  one  Government  to 
a  body  of  honest,  decent  business  men,  with  a 
Government  of  their  own  back  of  them,  and  if 
you  interfere  with  our  conceded  rights  to  work 
those  mines,  I'll  have  a  man-of-war  down  here 
with  white  paint  on  her  hull,  and  she'll  blow  you 
and  your  little  republic  back  up  there  into  the 
mountains.  Now  you  can  go." 

Mendoza  had  straightened  with  surprise  when 
Clay  first  began  to  speak,  and  had  then  bent  for 
ward  slightly  as  though  he  meant  to  interrupt  him. 
His  eyebrows  were  lowered  In  a  straight  line,  and 
his  lips  moved  quickly. 

59 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"You  poor —  he  began,  contemptuously. 
"Bah,"  he  exclaimed,  "you're  a  fool;  I  should 
have  sent  a  servant  to  talk  with  you.  You  are 
a  child — but  you  are  an  insolent  child,"  he  cried, 
suddenly,  his  anger  breaking  out,  "and  I  shall 
punish  you.  You  dare  to  call  me  names !  You 
shall  fight  me,  you  shall  fight  me  to-morrow.  You 
have  insulted  an  officer,  and  you  shall  meet  me  at 
once,  to-morrow." 

"If  I  meet  you  to-morrow,"  Clay  replied,  "I 
will  thrash  you  for  your  impertinence.  The  only 
reason  I  don't  do  it  now  is  because  you  are  on 
my  doorstep.  You  had  better  not  meet  me  to 
morrow,  or  at  any  other  time.  And  I  have  no 
leisure  to  fight  duels  with  anybody." 

"You  are  a  coward,"  returned  the  other,  quiet 
ly,  "and  I  tell  you  so  before  my  servant." 

Clay  gave  a  short  laugh  and  turned  to  Mac- 
Williams  in  the  doorway. 

"Hand  me  my  gun,  MacWilliams,"  he  said, 
"it's  on  the  shelf  to  the  right." 

MacWilliams  stood  still  and  shook  his  head. 
"Oh,  let  him  alone,"  he  said.  "You've  got  him 
where  you  want  him." 

"Give  me  the  gun,  I  tell  you,"  repeated  Clay. 
"I'm  not  going  to  hurt  him,  I'm  only  going  to 
show  him  how  I  can  shoot." 

MacWilliams  moved  grudgingly  across  the 
60 


"  Now  you  can  go.' 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

porch  and  brought  back  the  revolver  and  handed 
it  to  Clay.  "Look  out  now,"  he  said,  "it's 
loaded." 

At  Clay's  words  the  General  had  retreated 
hastily  to  his  horse's  head  and  had  begun  un 
buckling  the  strap  of  his  holster,  and  the  orderly 
reached  back  into  the  boot  for  his  carbine.  Clay 
told  him  in  Spanish  to  throw  up  his  hands,  and 
the  man,  with  a  frightened  look  at  his  officer,  did 
as  the  revolver  suggested.  Then  Clay  motioned 
with  his  empty  hand  for  the  other  to  desist. 
"Don't  do  that,"  he  said,  "I'm  not  going  to 
hurt  you;  I'm  only  going  to  frighten  you  a  lit 
tle." 

He  turned  and  looked  at  the  student  lamp  in 
side,  where  it  stood  on  the  table  in  full  view. 
Then  he  raised  his  revolver.  He  did  not  appar 
ently  hold  it  away  from  him  by  the  butt,  as  other 
men  do,  but  let  it  lie  in  the  palm  of  his  hand, 
into  which  it  seemed  to  fit  like  the  hand  of  a 
friend.  His  first  shot  broke  the  top  of  the  glass 
chimney,  the  second  shattered  the  green  globe 
around  it,  the  third  put  out  the  light,  and  the  next 
drove  the  lamp  crashing  to  the  floor.  There  was 
a  wild  yell  of  terror  from  the  back  of  the  house, 
and  the  noise  of  a  guitar  falling  down  a  flight  of 
steps.  "I  have  probably  killed  a  very  good  cook," 
said  Clay,  "as  I  should  as  certainly  kill  you,  if  1 

61 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

were  to  meet  you.    Langham,"  he  continued,  "go 
tell  that  cook  to  come  back." 

The  General  sprang  into  his  saddle,  and  the 
altitude  it  gave  him  seemed  to  bring  back  some 
of  the  jauntiness  he  had  lost. 

"That  was  very  pretty,"  he  said;  "you  have 
been  a  cowboy,  so  they  tell  me.  It  is  quite  evi 
dent  by  your  manners.  No  matter,  if  we  do  not 
meet  to-morrow  it  will  be  because  I  have  more 
serious  work  to  do.  Two  months  from  to-day 
there  will  be  a  new  Government  in  Olancho  and 
a  new  President,  and  the  mines  will  have  a  new 
director.  I  have  tried  to  be  your  friend,  Mr. 
Clay.  See  how  you  like  me  for  an  enemy.  Good 
night,  gentlemen." 

"Good-night,"  said  MacWilliams,  unmoved. 
"Please  ask  your  man  to  close  the  gate  after  you." 

When  the  sound  of  the  hoofs  had  died  away 
the  men  still  stood  in  an  uncomfortable  silence, 
with  Clay  twirling  the  revolver  around  his  middle 
finger.  "I'm  sorry  I  had  to  make  a  gallery  play 
of  that  sort,"  he  said.  "But  it  was  the  only  way 
to  make  that  sort  of  man  understand." 

Langham  sighed  and  shook  his  head  ruefully. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  thought  all  the  trouble  was 
over,  but  it  looks  to  me  as  though  it  had  just 
begun.  So  far  as  I  can  see  they're  going  to  give 
the  governor  a  run  for  his  money  yet." 

62 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

Clay  turned  to  MacWilliams. 

"How  many  of  Mendoza's  soldiers  have  we  in 
the  mines,  Mac?"  he  asked. 

"About  fifteen  hundred,"  MacWilliams  an 
swered.  "But  you  ought  to  hear  the  way  they 
talk  of  him." 

"They  do,  eh?"  said  Clay,  with  a  smile  of  satis 
faction.  "That's  good.  'Six  hundred  slaves  who 
hate  their  masters.'  What  do  they  say  about 
me?" 

"Oh,  they  think  you're  all  right.  They  know 
you  got  them  their  pay  and  all  that.  They'd  do 
a  lot  for  you." 

"Would  they  fight  for  me?"  asked  Clay. 

MacWilliams  looked  up  and  laughed  uneasily. 
"I  don't  know,"  he  said.  "Why,  old  man?  What 
do  you  mean  to  do?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  Clay  answered.  "I  was 
just  wondering  whether  I  should  like  to  be  Pres 
ident  of  Olancho." 


Ill 


Langhams  were  to  arrive  on  Friday, 
and  during  the  week  before  that  day  Clay 
went  about  with  a  long  slip  of  paper  in  his  pock 
et  which  he  would  consult  earnestly  in  corners, 
and  upon  which  he  would  note  down  the  things 
that  they  had  left  undone.  At  night  he  would 
sit  staring  at  it  and  turning  it  over  in  much  con 
cern,  and  would  beg  Langham  to  tell  him  what 
he  could  have  meant  when  he  wrote  "see  Wei- 
mer,"  or  "clean  brasses,"  or  "S.  Q.  M."  "Why 
should  I  see  Weimer,"  he  would  exclaim,  "and 
which  brasses,  and  what  does  S.  Q.  M.  stand  for, 
for  heaven's  sake?" 

They  held  a  full-dress  rehearsal  in  the  bunga 
low  to  improve  its  state  of  preparation,  and  drilled 
the  servants  and  talked  English  to  them,  so  that 
they  would  know  what  was  wanted  when  the 
young  ladies  came.  It  was  an  interesting  exercise, 
and  had  the  three  young  men  been  less  serious  in 
their  anxiety  to  welcome  the  coming  guests  they 
would  have  found  themselves  very  amusing — as 
when  Langham  would  lean  over  the  balcony  in 

64 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

the  court  and  shout  back  into  the  kitchen,  in  what 
was  supposed  to  be  an  imitation  of  his  sister's 
manner,  "Bring  my  coffee  and  rolls — and  don't 
take  all  day  about  it  either,"  while  Clay  and  Mac- 
Williams  stood  anxiously  below  to  head  off  the 
servants  when  they  carried  in  a  can  of  hot  water 
instead  of  bringing  the  horses  round  to  the  door, 
as  they  had  been  told  to  do. 

"Of  course  it's  a  bit  rough  and  all  that,"  Clay 
would  say,  "but  they  have  only  to  tell  us  what 
they  want  changed  and  we  can  have  it  ready  for 
them  in  an  hour." 

"Oh,  my  sisters  are  all  right,"  Langham  would 
reassure  him;  "they'll  think  it's  fine.  It  will  be 
like  camping-out  to  them,  or  a  picnic.  They'll 
understand." 

But  to  make  sure,  and  to  "test  his  girders," 
as  Clay  put  it,  they  gave  a  dinner,  and  after  that 
a  breakfast.  The  President  came  to  the  first,  with 
his  wife,  the  Countess  Manuelata,  Madame  la 
Presidenta,  and  Captain  Stuart,  late  of  the  Gor 
don  Highlanders,  and  now  in  command  of  the 
household  troops  at  the  Government  House  and 
of  the  body-guard  of  the  President.  He  was  a 
friend  of  Clay's  and  popular  with  every  one  pres 
ent,  except  for  the  fact  that  he  occupied  this  po 
sition,  instead  of  serving  his  own  Government  in 
his  own  army.  Some  people  said  he  had  been 

65 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

crossed  in  love,  others,  less  sentimental,  that  he 
had  forged  a  check,  or  mixed  up  the  mess  ac 
counts  of  his  company.  But  Clay  and  MacWill- 
iams  said  it  concerned  no  one  why  he  was  there, 
and  then  emphasized  the  remark  by  picking  a 
quarrel  with  a  man  who  had  given  an  unpleasant 
reason  for  it.  Stuart,  so  far  as  they  were  con 
cerned,  could  do  no  wrong. 

The  dinner  went  off  very  well,  and  the  Presi 
dent  consented  to  dine  with  them  in  a  week,  on 
the  invitation  of  young  Langham  to  meet  his 
father. 

"Miss  Langham  is  very  beautiful,  they  tell  me," 
Madame  Alvarez  said  to  Clay.  "I  heard  of  her 
one  winter  in  Rome;  she  was  presented  there  and 
much  admired." 

"Yes,  I  believe  she  is  considered  very  beauti 
ful,"  Clay  said.  "I  have  only  just  met  her,  but 
she  has  travelled  a  great  deal  and  knows  every 
one  who  is  of  interest,  and  I  think  you  will  like 
her  very  much." 

"I  mean  to  like  her,"  said  the  woman.  "There 
are  very  few  of  the  native  ladies  who  have  seen 
much  of  the  world  beyond  a  trip  to  Paris,  where 
they  live  in  their  hotels  and  at  the  dressmaker's 
while  their  husbands  enjoy  themselves;  and  some 
times  I  am  rather  heart-sick  for  my  home  and  my 
own  people.  I  was  overjoyed  when  I  heard  Miss 

66 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

Langham  was  to  be  with  us  this  winter.  But  you 
must  not  keep  her  out  here  to  yourselves.  It  is 
too  far  and  too  selfish.  She  must  spend  some  time 
with  me  at  the  Government  House." 

"Yes,"  said  Clay,  "I  am  afraid  of  that.  I  am 
afraid  the  young  ladies  will  find  it  rather  lonely 
out  here." 

"Ah,  no,"  exclaimed  the  woman,  quickly.  "You 
have  made  it  beautiful,  and  it  is  only  a  half-hour's 
ride,  except  when  it  rains,"  she  added,  laughing, 
"and  then  it  is  almost  as  easy  to  row  as  to  ride." 

"I  will  have  the  road  repaired,"  interrupted  the 
President.  "It  is  my  wish,  Mr.  Clay,  that  you 
will  command  me  in  every  way;  I  am  most  desir 
ous  to  make  the  visit  of  Mr.  Langham  agreeable 
to  him,  he  is  doing  so  much  for  us." 

The  breakfast  was  given  later  in  the  week,  and 
only  men  were  present.  They  were  the  rich  plant 
ers  and  bankers  of  Valencia,  generals  in  the  army, 
and  members  of  the  Cabinet,  and  officers  from 
the  tiny  war-ship  in  the  harbor.  The  breeze  from 
the  bay  touched  them  through  the  open  doors,  the 
food  and  wine  cheered  them,  and  the  eager  cour 
tesy  and  hospitality  of  the  three  Americans  pleased 
and  flattered  them.  They  were  of  a  people  who 
better  appreciate  the  amenities  of  life  than  its 
sacrifices. 

The  breakfast  lasted  far  into  the  afternoon,  and, 
67 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

insprred  by  the  success  of  the  banquet,  Clay  quite 
unexpectedly  found  himself  on  his  feet  with  his 
hand  on  his  heart,  thanking  the  guests  for  the 
good-will  and  assistance  which  they  had  given  him 
in  his  work.  "I  have  tramped  down  your  coffee- 
plants,  and  cut  away  your  forests,  and  disturbed 
your  sleep  with  my  engines,  and  you  have  not 
complained,"  he  said,  in  his  best  Spanish,  "and 
we  will  show  that  we  arc  not  ungrateful." 

Then  Weimer,  the  Consul,  spoke,  and  told  them 
that  in  his  Annual  Consular  Report,  which  he  had 
just  forwarded  to  the  State  Department,  he  had 
related  how  ready  the  Government  of  Olancho 
had  been  to  assist  the  American  company.  "And 
I  hope,"  he  concluded,  "that  you  will  allow  me, 
gentlemen,  to  propose  the  health  of  President  Al 
varez  and  the  members  of  his  Cabinet." 

The  men  rose  to  their  feet,  one  by  one,  filling 
their  glasses  and  laughing  and  saying,  "Viva  el 
Gobernador,"  until  they  were  all  standing.  Then, 
as  they  looked  at  one  another  and  saw  only  the 
faces  of  friends,  some  one  of  them  cried,  sud 
denly,  "To  President  Alvarez,  Dictator  of  Olan 
cho  !" 

The  cry  was  drowned  in  a  yell  of  exultation, 
and  men  sprang  cheering  to  their  chairs  waving 
their  napkins  above  their  heads,  and  those  who 
wore  swords  drew  them  and  flashed  them  in  the 

68 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

air,  and  the  quiet,  lazy  good-nature  of  the  break 
fast  was  turned  into  an  uproarious  scene  of  wild 
excitement.  Clay  pushed  back  his  chair  from  the 
head  of  the  table  with  an  anxious  look  at  the 
servants  gathered  about  the  open  door,  and  Wei- 
mer  clutched  frantically  at  Langham's  elbow  and 
whispered,  "What  did  I  say?  For  heaven's  sake, 
how  did  it  begin?" 

The  outburst  ceased  as  suddenly  as  it  had  start 
ed,  and  old  General  Rojas,  the  Vice-President, 
called  out,  "What  is  said  is  said,  but  it  must  not 
be  repeated." 

Stuart  waited  until  after  the  rest  had  gone,  and 
Clay  led  him  out  to  the  end  of  the  veranda.  "Now 
will  you  kindly  tell  me  what  that  was?"  Clay 
asked.  "It  didn't  sound  like  champagne." 

"No,"  said  the  other,  "I  thought  you  knew. 
Alvarez  means  to  proclaim  himself  Dictator,  if 
he  can,  before  the  spring  elections." 

"And  are  you  going  to  help  him?" 

"Of  course,"  said  the  Englishman,  simply. 

"Well,  that's  all  right,"  said  Clay,  "but  there's 
no  use  shouting  the  fact  all  over  the  shop  like 
that — and  they  shouldn't  drag  me  into  it." 

Stuart  laughed  easily  and  shook  his  head.  "It 
won't  be  long  before  you'll  be  in  it  yourself,"  he 
said. 

Clay  awoke  early  Friday  morning  to  hear  the 
69 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

shutters  beating  viciously  against  the  side  of  the 
house,  and  the  wind  rushing  through  the  palms, 
and  the  rain  beating  in  splashes  on  the  zinc  roof. 
It  did  not  come  soothingly  and  in  a  steady  down 
pour,  but  brokenly,  like  the  rush  of  waves  sweep 
ing  over  a  rough  beach.  He  turned  on  the  pillow 
and  shut  his  eyes  again  with  the  same  impotent 
and  rebellious  sense  of  disappointment  that  he 
used  to  feel  when  he  had  wakened  as  a  boy  and 
found  it  storming  on  his  holiday,  and  he  tried  to 
sleep  once  more  in  the  hope  that  when  he  again 
awoke  the  sun  would  be  shining  in  his  eyes;  but 
the  storm  only  slackened  and  did  not  cease,  and 
the  rain  continued  to  fall  with  dreary,  relentless 
persistence.  The  men  climbed  the  muddy  road  to 
the  Palms,  and  viewed  in  silence  the  wreck  which 
the  night  had  brought  to  their  plants  and  garden- 
paths.  Rivulets  of  muddy  water  had  cut  gutters 
over  the  lawn  and  poured  out  from  under  the 
veranda,  and  plants  and  palms  lay  bent  and 
broken,  with  their  broad  leaves  bedraggled  and 
coated  with  mud.  The  harbor  and  the  encircling 
mountains  showed  dimly  through  a  curtain  of 
warm,  sticky  rain.  To  something  that  Langham 
said  of  making  the  best  of  it,  MacWilliams  re 
plied,  gloomily,  that  he  would  not  be  at  all  sur 
prised  if  the  ladies  refused  to  leave  the  ship  and 
demanded  to  be  taken  home  immediately.  "I  am 

79 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

sorry,"  Clay  said,  simply;  "1  wanted  them  to 
like  it." 

The  men  walked  back  to  the  office  In  grim  si 
lence,  and  took  turns  in  watching  with  a  glass  the 
arms  of  the  semaphore,  three  miles  below,  at  the 
narrow  opening  of  the  bay.  Clay  smiled  nervous 
ly  at  himself,  with  a  sudden  sinking  at  the  heart, 
and  with  a  hot  blush  of  pleasure,  as  he  thought 
of  how  often  he  had  looked  at  its  great  arms  out 
lined  like  a  mast  against  the  sky,  and  thanked  it 
in  advance  for  telling  him  that  she  was  near.  In 
the  harbor  below,  the  vessels  lay  with  bare  yards 
and  empty  decks,  the  wharves  were  deserted,  and 
only  an  occasional  small  boat  moved  across  the 
beaten  surface  of  the  bay. 

But  at  twelve  o'clock  MacWilliams  lowered  the 
glass  quickly,  with  a  little  gasp  of  excitement, 
rubbed  its  moist  lens  on  the  inside  of  his  coat  and 
turned  it  again  toward  a  limp  strip  of  bunting 
that  was  crawling  slowly  up  the  halyards  of  the 
semaphore.  A  second  dripping  rag  answered  it 
from  the  semaphore  in  front  of  the  Custom- 
House,  and  MacWilliams  laughed  nervously  and 
shut  the  glass. 

"It's  red,"  he  said;  "they've  come." 

They  had  planned  to  wear  white  duck  suits,  and 
go  out  in  a  launch  with  a  flag  flying,  and  they 
had  made  MacWilliams  purchase  a  red  cummer- 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

bund  and  a  pith  helmet;  but  they  tumbled  into 
the  launch  now,  wet  and  bedraggled  as  they  were, 
and  raced  Weimer  in  his  boat,  with  the  American 
flag  clinging  to  the  pole,  to  the  side  of  the  big 
steamer  as  she  drew  slowly  Into  the  bay.  Other 
row-boats  and  launches  and  lighters  began  to  push 
out  from  the  wharves,  men  appeared  under  the 
sagging  awnings  of  the  bare  houses  along  the 
river-front,  and  the  custom  and  health  officers  in 
shining  oil-skins  and  puffing  damp  cigars  clam 
bered  over  the  side. 

"I  see  them,"  cried  Langham,  jumping  up  and 
rocking  the  boat  in  his  excitement.  "There  they 
are  in  the  bow.  That's  Hope  waving.  Hope ! 
hullo,  Hope!"  he  shouted,  "hullo!"  Clay  recog 
nized  her  standing  between  the  younger  sister  and 
her  father,  with  the  rain  beating  on  all  of  them, 
and  waving  her  hand  to  Langham.  The  men  took 
off  their  hats,  and  as  they  pulled  up  alongside  she 
bowed  to  Clay  and  nodded  brightly.  They 
sent  Langham  up  the  gangway  first,  and  waited 
until  he  had  made  his  greetings  to  his  family 
alone. 

"We  have  had  a  terrible  trip,  Mr.  Clay,"  Miss 
Langham  said  to  him,  beginning,  as  people  will, 
with  the  last  few  days,  as  though  they  were  of 
the  greatest  importance;  "and  we  could  see  nothing 
of  you  at  the  mines  at  all  as  we  passed — only  a 

72 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

wet  flag,  and  a  lot  of  very  friendly  workmen,  who 
cheered  and  fired  off  pans  of  dynamite." 

"They  did,  did  they?"  said  Clay,  with  a  satis 
fied  nod.  "That's  all  right,  then.  That  was  a  royal 
salute  in  your  honor.  Kirkland  had  that  to  do. 
He's  the  foreman  of  A  opening.  I  am  awfully 
sorry  about  this  rain — it  spoils  everything." 

"I  hope  it  hasn't  spoiled  our  breakfast,"  said 
Mr.  Langham.  "We  haven't  eaten  anything  this 
morning,  because  we  wanted  a  change  of  diet,  and 
the  captain  told  us  we  should  be  on  shore  before 
now." 

"We  have  some  carriages  for  you  at  the  wharf, 
and  we  will  drive  you  right  out  to  the  Palms," 
said  young  Langham.  "  It's  shorter  by  water, 
but  there's  a  hill  that  the  girls  couldn't  climb  to 
day.  That's  the  house  we  built  for  you,  Gover 
nor,  with  the  flag-pole,  up  there  on  the  hill;  and 
there's  your  ugly  old  pier;  and  that's  where  we 
live,  in  the  little  shack  above  it,  with  the  tin  roof; 
and  that  opening  to  the  right  is  the  terminus  of 
the  railroad  MacWilliams  built.  Where's  Mac- 
Williams?  Here,  Mac,  I  want  you  to  know  my 
father.  This  is  MacWilliams,  sir,  of  whom  I 
wrote  you." 

There  was  some  delay  about  the  baggage,  and 
in  getting  the  party  together  in  the  boats  that 
Langham  and  the  Consul  had  brought;  and  after 

73 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

they  had  stood  for  some  time  on  the  wet  dock, 
hungry  and  damp,  it  was  rather  aggravating  to 
find  that  the  carriages  which  Langham  had  or 
dered  to  be  at  one  pier  had  gone  to  another.  So 
the  new  arrivals  sat  rather  silently  under  the  shed 
of  the  levee  on  a  row  of  cotton-bales,  while  Clay 
and  MacWilliams  raced  off  after  the  carriages. 

"I  wish  we  didn't  have  to  keep  the  hood  down," 
young  Langham  said,  anxiously,  as  they  at  last 
proceeded  heavily  up  the  muddy  streets;  "it  makes 
it  so  hot,  and  you  can't  see  anything.  Not  that 
it's  worth  seeing  in  all  this  mud  and  muck,  but  it's 
great  when  the  sun  shines.  We  had  planned  it 
all  so  differently.'1 

He  was  alone  with  his  family  now  in  one  car 
riage,  and  the  other  men  and  the  servants  were 
before  them  in  two  others.  It  seemed  an  inter 
minable  ride  to  them  all — to  the  strangers,  and 
to  the  men  who  were  anxious  that  they  should 
be  pleased.  They  left  the  city  at  last,  and  toiled 
along  the  limestone  road  to  the  Palms,  rocking 
from  side  to  side  and  sinking  in  ruts  filled  with 
rushing  water.  When  they  opened  the  flap  of  the 
hood  the  rain  beat  in  on  them,  and  when  they 
closed  it  they  stewed  in  a  damp,  warm  atmosphere 
of  wet  leather  and  horse-hair. 

"This  is  worse  than  a  Turkish  bath,"  said  Hope, 
faintly.  "Don't  you  live  anywhere,  Ted?" 

74 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"Oh,  it's  not  far  now,"  said  the  younger  broth 
er,  dismally;  but  even  as  he  spoke  the  carnage 
lurched  forward  and  plunged  to  one  side  and  came 
to  a  halt,  and  they  could  hear  the  streams  rushing 
past  the  wheels  like  the  water  at  the  bow  of  a 
boat.  A  wet,  black  face  appeared  at  the  opening 
of  the  hood,  and  a  man  spoke  despondently  in 
Spanish. 

"He  says  we're  stuck  in  the  mud,"  explained 
Langham.  He  looked  at  them  so  beseechingly 
and  so  pitifully,  with  the  perspiration  streaming 
down  his  face,  and  his  clothes  damp  and  bedrag 
gled,  that  Hope  leaned  back  and  laughed,  and  his 
father  patted  him  on  the  knee.  "It  can't  be  any 
worse,"  he  said,  cheerfully;  "it  must  mend  now. 
It  is  not  your  fault,  Ted,  that  we're  starving  and 
lost  in  the  mud." 

Langham  looked  out  to  find  Clay  and  MacWil- 
liams  knee-deep  in  the  running  water,  with  their 
shoulders  against  the  muddy  wheels,  and  the  driver 
lashing  at  the  horses  and  dragging  at  their  bridles. 
He  sprang  out  to  their  assistance,  and  Hope,  shak 
ing  off  her  sister's  detaining  hands,  jumped  out 
after  him,  laughing.  She  splashed  up  the  hill  to 
the  horses'  heads,  motioning  to  the  driver  to  re 
lease  his  hold  on  their  bridles. 

"That  is  not  the  way  to  treat  a  horse,"  she  said. 
"Let  me  have  them.  Are  you  men  all  ready  down 

75 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

there?"  she  called.  Each  of  the  three  men  glued 
a  shoulder  to  a  wheel,  and  clenched  his  teeth  and 
nodded.  "All  right,  then,"  Hope  called  back. 
She  took  hold  of  the  huge  Mexican  bits  close  to 
the  mouth,  where  the  pressure  was  not  so  cruel, 
and  then  coaxing  and  tugging  by  turns,  and  slip 
ping  as  often  as  the  horses  themselves,  she  drew 
them  out  of  the  mud,  and  with  the  help  of  the 
men  back  of  the  carriage  pulled  it  clear  until  it 
stood  free  again  at  the  top  of  the  hill.  Then  she 
released  her  hold  on  the  bridles  and  looked  down, 
in  dismay,  at  her  frock  and  hands,  and  then  up  at 
the  three  men.  They  appeared  so  utterly  miser 
able  and  forlorn  in  their  muddy  garments,  and 
with  their  faces  washed  with  the  rain  and  perspi 
ration,  that  the  girl  gave  way  suddenly  to  an  un 
controllable  shriek  of  delight.  The  men  stared 
blankly  at  her  for  a  moment,  and  then  inquiringly 
at  one  another,  and  as  the  humor  of  the  situation 
struck  them  they  burst  into  an  echoing  shout  of 
laughter,  which  rose  above  the  noise  of  the  wind 
and  rain,  and  before  which  the  disappointments 
and  trials  of  the  morning  wrere  swept  away.  Be 
fore  they  reached  the  Palms  the  sun  was  out  and 
shining  with  fierce  brilliancy,  reflecting  its  rays  on 
every  damp  leaf,  and  drinking  up  each  glistening 
pool  of  water. 

MacWilliams  and  Clay  left  the  Langhams  alone 
76 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

together,  and  returned  to  the  office,  where  they 
assured  each  other  again  and  again  that  there  was 
no  doubt,  from  what  each  had  heard  different 
members  of  the  family  say,  that  they  were  greatly 
pleased  with  all  that  had  been  prepared  for  them. 

"They  think  it's  fine !"  said  young  Langham, 
who  had  run  down  the  hill  to  tell  them  about  it. 
"I  tell  you,  they  are  pleased.  I  took  them  all 
over  the  house,  and  they  just  exclaimed  every  min 
ute.  Of  course,"  he  said,  dispassionately,  "I 
thought  they'd  like  it,  but  I  had  no  idea  it  would 
please  them  as  much  as  it  has.  My  Governor  is 
so  delighted  with  the  place  that  he's  sitting  out 
there  on  the  veranda  now,  rocking  himself  up  and 
down  and  taking  long  breaths  of  sea-air,  just  as 
though  he  owned  the  whole  coast-line." 

Langham  dined  with  his  people  that  night,  Clay 
and  MacWilliams  having  promised  to  follow  him 
up  the  hill  later.  It  was  a  night  of  much  moment 
to  them  all,  and  the  two  men  ate  their  dinner  in 
silence,  each  considering  what  the  coming  of  the 
strangers  might  mean  to  him. 

As  he  was  leaving  the  room  MacWSlliams 
stopped  and  hovered  uncertainly  in  the  doorway. 

"Are  you  going  to  get  yourself  into  a  dress-suit 
to-night?"  he  asked.  Clay  said  that  he  thought 
he  would;  he  wanted  to  feel  quite  clean  once  more. 

"Well,  all  right,  then,"  the  other  returned,  re- 
77 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

luctantly.  "I'll  do  it  for  this  once,  if  you  mean 
to,  but  you  needn't  think  I'm  going  to  make  a 
practice  of  it,  for  I'm  not.  I  haven't  worn  a 
dress-suit,"  he  continued,  as  though  explaining  his 
principles  in  the  matter,  "since  your  spread  when 
we  opened  the  railroad — that's  six  months  ago; 
and  the  time  before  that  I  wore  one  at  MacGol- 
derick's  funeral.  MacGolderick  blew  himself  up 
at  Puerto  Truxillo,  shooting  rocks  for  the  break 
water.  We  never  found  all  of  him,  but  we  gave 
what  we  could  get  together  as  fine  a  funeral  as  those 
natives  ever  saw.  The  boys,  they  wanted  to  make 
him  look  respectable,  so  they  asked  me  to  lend 
them  my  dress-suit,  but  I  told  them  I  meant  to 
wear  it  myself.  That's  how  I  came  to  wear  a 
dress-suit  at  a  funeral.  It  was  either  me  or  Mac 
Golderick." 

"MacWilliams,"  said  Clay,  as  he  stuck  the  toe 
of  one  boot  into  the  heel  of  the  other,  "if  I  had 
your  imagination  I'd  give  up  railroading  and  take 
to  writing  war  clouds  for  the  newspapers." 

"Do  you  mean  you  don't  believe  that  story?" 
MacWilliams  demanded,  sternly. 

"I  do,"  said  Clay,  "I  mean  I  don't." 

"Well,  let  it  go,"  returned  MacWilliams, 
gloomily;  "but  there's  been  funerals  for  less  than 
that,  let  me  tell  you." 

A  half-hour  later  MacWilliams  appeared  in  the 
78 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

door  and  stood  gazing  attentively  at  Clay  arrang« 
ing  his  tie  before  a  hand-glass,  and  then  at  himself 
in  his  unusual  apparel. 

"No  wonder  you  voted  to  dress  up,"  he  ex 
claimed  finally,  in  a  tone  of  personal  injury. 
"That's  not  a  dress-suit  you've  got  on  anyway. 
It  hasn't  any  tails.  And  I  hope  for  your  sake, 
Mr.  Clay,"  he  continued,  his  voice  rising  in  plain 
tive  indignation,  "that  you  are  not  going  to  play 
that  scarf  on  us  for  a  vest.  And  you  haven't  got 
a  high  collar  on,  either.  That's  only  a  rough  blue 
print  of  a  dress-suit.  Why,  you  look  just  as  com 
fortable  as  though  you  were  going  to  enjoy  your 
self — and  you  look  cool,  too." 

"Well,  why  not?"  laughed  Clay. 

"Well,  but  look  at  me,"  cried  the  other.  "Do 
I  look  cool?  Do  I  look  happy  or  comfortable? 
No,  I  don't.  I  look  just  about  the  way  I  feel, 
like  a  fool  undertaker.  I'm  going  to  take  this 
thing  right  off.  You  and  Ted  Langham  can  wear 
your  silk  scarfs  and  bobtail  coats,  if  you  like,  but 
if  they  don't  want  me  in  white  duck  they  don't 
get  me." 

When  they  reached  the  Palms,  Clay  asked  Miss 
Langham  if  she  did  not  want  to  see  his  view. 
"And  perhaps,  if  you  appreciate  it  properly,  I  will 
make  you  a  present  of  it,"  he  said,  as  he  walked 
before  her  down  the  length  of  the  veranda. 

79 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"It  would  be  very  selfish  to  keep  it  all  to  my 
self,"  she  said.  "Couldn't  we  share  it?"  They 
had  left  the  others  seated  facing  the  bay,  with 
MacWilliams  and  young  Langham  on  the  broad 
steps  of  the  veranda,  and  the  younger  sister  and 
her  father  sitting  in  long  bamboo  steamer-chairs 
above  them. 

Clay  and  Miss  Langham  were  quite  alone. 
From  the  high  cliff  on  which  the  Palms  stood  they 
could  look  down  the  narrow  inlet  that  joined  the 
ocean  and  see  the  moonlight  turning  the  water 
into  a  rippling  ladder  of  light  and  gilding  the 
dark  green  leaves  of  the  palms  near  them  with 
a  border  of  silver.  Directly  below  them  lay  the 
waters  of  the  bay,  reflecting  the  red  and  green 
lights  of  the  ships  at  anchor,  and  beyond  them 
again  were  the  yellow  lights  of  the  town,  rising 
one  above  the  other  as  the  city  crept  up  the  hill. 
And  back  of  all  were  the  mountains,  grim  and 
mysterious,  with  white  clouds  sleeping  in  their 
huge  valleys,  like  masses  of  fog. 

Except  for  the  ceaseless  murmur  of  the  insect 
life  about  them  the  night  was  absolutely  still — 
so  still  that  the  striking  of  the  ships'  bells  in  the 
harbor  came  to  them  sharply  across  the  surface  of 
the  water,  and  they  could  hear  from  time  to  time 
the  splash  of  some  great  fish  and  the  steady  creak 
ing  of  an  oar  in  a  rowlock  that  grew  fainter  and 

80 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

fainter  as  it  grew  further  away,  until  it  was 
drowned  in  the  distance.  Miss  Langham  was  for 
a  long  time  silent.  She  stood  with  her  hands 
clasped  behind  her,  gazing  from  side  to  side  into 
the  moonlight,  and  had  apparently  forgotten  that 
Clay  was  present. 

"Well,"  he  said  at  last,  "I  think  you  appreciate 
it  properly.  I  was  afraid  you  would  exclaim  about 
it,  and  say  it  was  fine,  or  charming,  or  something." 

Miss  Langham  turned  to  him  and  smiled  slight 
ly.  "And  you  told  me  once  that  you  knew  me 
so  very  well,"  she  said. 

Clay  chose  to  forget  much  that  he  had  said  on 
that  night  when  he  had  first  met  her.  He  knew 
that  he  had  been  bold  then,  and  had  dared  to  be 
so  because  he  did  not  think  he  would  see  her  again; 
but,  now  that  he  was  to  meet  her  every  day 
through  several  months,  it  seemed  better  to  him 
that  they  should  grow  to  know  each  other  as  they 
really  were,  simply  and  sincerely,  and  without 
forcing  the  situation  in  any  way. 

So  he  replied,  "I  don't  know  you  so  well  now. 
You  must  remember  I  haven't  seen  you  for  a 
year." 

"Yes,  but  you  hadn't  seen  me  for  twenty-two 
years  then,"  she  answered.  "I  don't  think  you 
have  changed  much,"  she  went  on.  "I  expected 
to  find  you  gray  with  cares.  Ted  wrote  us  about 

81 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

the  way  you  work  all  day  at  the  mines  and  sit 
up  all  night  over  calculations  and  plans  and  re 
ports.  But  you  don't  show  it.  When  are  you 
going  to  take  us  over  the  mines?  To-morrow? 
I  am  very  anxious  to  see  them,  but  I  suppose 
father  will  wrant  to  inspect  them  first.  Hope 
knows  all  about  them,  I  believe;  she  knows  their 
names,  and  how  much  you  have  taken  out,  and 
how  much  you  have  put  in,  too,  and  what  Mac- 
Williams's  railroad  cost,  and  who  got  the  con 
tract  for  the  ore  pier.  Ted  told  us  in  his  letters, 
and  she  used  to  work  it  out  on  the  map  in  father's 
study.  She  is  a  most  energetic  child;  I  think  some 
times  she  should  have  been  a  boy.  I  wish  I  could 
be  the  help  to  any  one  that  she  is  to  my  father 
and  to  me.  Whenever  I  am  blue  or  down  she 
makes  fun  of  me,  and— 

"Why  should  you  ever  be  blue?"  asked  Clay, 
abruptly. 

"There  is  no  real  reason,  I  suppose,"  the  girl 
answered,  smiling,  "except  that  life  is  so  very  easy 
for  me  that  I  have  to  invent  some  woes.  I  should 
be  better  for  a  few  reverses."  And  then  she  went 
on  in  a  lower  voice,  and  turning  her  head  away, 
"In  our  family  there  is  no  woman  older  than  I 
am  to  whom  I  can  go  with  questions  that  trouble 
me.  Hope  is  like  a  boy,  as  I  said,  and  plays  with 
Ted,  and  my  father  is  very  busy  with  his  affairs, 

82 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

and  since  ray  mother  died  I  have  been  very  much 
alone.  A  man  cannot  understand.  And  I  cannot 
understand  why  I  should  be  speaking  to  you  about 
myself  and  my  troubles,  except — "  she  added,  a 
little  wistfully,  "that  you  once  said  you  were  in 
terested  in  me,  even  if  it  was  as  long  as  a  year  ago. 
And  because  I  want  you  to  be  very  kind  to  me, 
as  you  have  been  to  Ted,  and  I  hope  that  we  are 
going  to  be  very  good  friends." 

She  was  so  beautiful,  standing  in  the  shadow 
with  the  moonlight  about  her  and  with  her  hand 
held  out  to  him,  that  Clay  felt  as  though  the  scene 
were  hardly  real.  He  took  her  hand  in  his  and 
held  it  for  a  moment.  His  pleasure  in  the  sweet 
friendliness  of  her  manner  and  in  her  beauty  was 
so  great  that  it  kept  him  silent. 

"Friends!"  he  laughed  under  his  breath.  al 
don't  think  there  is  much  danger  of  our  not  being 
friends.  The  danger  lies,"  he  went  on,  smiling, 
"in  my  not  being  able  to  stop  there." 

Miss  Langham  made  no  sign  that  she  had  heard 
him,  but  turned  and  walked  out  into  the  moon 
light  and  down  the  porch  to  where  the  others  were 
sitting. 

Young  Langham  had  ordered  a  native  orchestra 
of  guitars  and  reed  instruments  from  the  town  to 
serenade  his  people,  and  they  were  standing  in 
front  of  the  house  in  the  moonlight  as  Miss  Lang- 

83 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

ham  and  Clay  came  forward.  They  played  the 
shrill,  eerie  music  of  their  country  with  a  passion 
and  feeling  that  filled  out  the  strange  tropical 
scene  around  them;  but  Clay  heard  them  only  as 
an  accompaniment  to  his  own  thoughts,  and  as  a 
part  of  the  beautiful  night  and  the  tall,  beautiful 
girl  who  had  dominated  it.  He  watched  her  from 
the  shadow  as  she  sat  leaning  easily  forward  and 
looking  into  the  night.  The  moonlight  fell  full 
upon  her,  and  though  she  did  not  once  look  at  him 
or  turn  her  head  in  his  direction,  he  felt  as  though 
she  must  be  conscious  of  his  presence,  as  though 
there  were  already  an  understanding  between  them 
which  she  herself  had  established.  She  had  asked 
him  to  be  her  friend.  That  was  only  a  pretty 
speech,  perhaps;  but  she  had  spoken  of  herself, 
and  had  hinted  at  her  perplexities  and  her  loneli 
ness,  and  he  argued  that  while  it  was  no  compli 
ment  to  be  asked  to  share  another's  pleasure,  it 
must  mean  something  when  one  was  allowed  to 
learn  a  little  of  another's  troubles. 

And  while  his  mind  was  flattered  and  aroused 
by  this  promise  of  confidence  between  them,  he 
was  rejoicing  in  the  rare  quality  of  her  beauty, 
and  in  the  thought  that  she  was  to  be  near  him, 
and  near  him  here,  of  all  places.  It  seemed  a  very 
wonderful  thing  to  Clay — something  that  could 
only  have  happened  in  a  novel  or  a  play.  For 

84 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

while  the  man  and  the  hour  frequently  appeared 
together,  he  had  found  that  the  one  woman  in 
the  world  and  the  place  and  the  man  was  a  much 
more  difficult  combination  to  bring  into  effect.  No 
one,  he  assured  himself  thankfully,  could  have  de 
signed  a  more  lovely  setting  for  his  love-story,  if 
it  was  to  be  a  love-story,  and  he  hoped  it  was, 
than  this  into  which  she  had  come  of  her  own  free 
will.  It  was  a  land  of  romance  and  adventure, 
of  guitars  and  latticed  windows,  of  warm  brilliant 
days  and  gorgeous  silent  nights,  under  purple 
heavens  and  white  stars.  And  he  was  to  have  her 
all  to  himself,  with  no  one  near  to  interrupt,  no 
other  friends,  even,  and  no  possible  rival.  She 
was  not  guarded  now  by  a  complex  social  system, 
with  its  responsibilities.  He  was  the  most  lucky 
of  men.  Others  had  only  seen  her  in  her  draw 
ing-room  or  in  an  opera-box,  but  he  was  free  to 
ford  mountain-streams  at  her  side,  or  ride  with 
her  under  arches  of  the  great  palms,  or  to  play 
a  guitar  boldly  beneath  her  window.  He  was  free 
to  come  and  go  at  any  hour;  not  only  free  to  do 
so,  but  the  very  nature  of  his  duties  made  It  neces 
sary  that  they  should  be  thrown  constantly  to 
gether. 

The  music  of  the  violins  moved  him  and  touched 
him  deeply,  and  stirred  depths  at  which  he  had 
not  guessed.  It  made  him  humble  and  deeply 

85 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

grateful,  and  he  felt  how  mean  and  unworthy  he 
was  of  such  great  happiness.  He  had  never  loved 
any  woman  as  he  felt  that  he  could  love  this  wom 
an,  as  he  hoped  that  he  was  to  love  her.  For 
he  was  not  so  far  blinded  by  her  beauty  and  by 
what  he  guessed  her  character  to  be,  as  to  im 
agine  that  he  really  knew  her.  He  only  knew 
what  he  hoped  she  was,  what  he  believed  the  soul 
must  be  that  looked  out  of  those  kind,  beautiful 
eyes,  and  that  found  utterance  in  that  wonderful 
voice  which  could  control  him  and  move  him  by  a 
word. 

He  felt,  as  he  looked  at  the  group  before  him, 
how  lonely  his  own  life  had  been,  how  hard  he 
had  worked  for  so  little — for  what  other  men 
found  ready  at  hand  when  they  were  born  into 
the  world.  He  felt  almost  a  touch  of  self-pity 
at  his  own  imperfectness;  and  the  power  of  his 
will  and  his  confidence  in  himself,  of  wrhich  he 
was  so  proud,  seemed  misplaced  and  little.  And 
then  he  wondered  if  he  had  not  neglected  chances; 
but  in  answer  to  this  his  injured  self-love  rose  to 
rebut  the  idea  that  he  had  wasted  any  portion  of 
his  time,  and  he  assured  himself  that  he  had  don>e 
the  work  that  he  had  cut  out  for  himself  to  do 
as  best  he  could;  no  one  but  himself  knew  with 
what  courage  and  spirit.  And  so  he  sat  combating 
with  himself,  hoping  one  moment  that  she  would 

86 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

prove  what  he  believed  her  to  be,  and  the  next, 
scandalized  at  his  temerity  in  daring  to  think  of 
her  at  all. 

The  spell  lifted  as  the  music  ceased,  and  Clay 
brought  himself  back  to  the  moment  and  looked 
about  him  as  though  he  were  waking  from  a 
dream  and  had  expected  to  see  the  scene  disap 
pear  and  the  figures  near  him  fade  into  the  moon 
light. 

Young  Langham  had  taken  a  guitar  from  one 
of  the  musicians  and  pressed  it  upon  MacW.il- 
liams,  with  imperative  directions  to  sing  such  and 
such  songs,  of  which,  in  their  isolation,  they  had 
grown  to  think  most  highly,  and  MacWilliams 
was  protesting  in  much  embarrassment. 

MacWilliams  had  a  tenor  voice  which  he  mal 
treated  in  the  most  vilianous  manner  by  singing 
directly  through  his  nose.  He  had  a  taste  for 
sentimental  songs,  in  which  "kiss"  rhymed  with 
"bliss,"  and  in  which  "the  people  cry"  was  always 
sure  to  be  followed  with  "as  she  goes  by,  that's 
pretty  Katie  Moody,"  or  "Rosie  Mclntyre."  He 
had  gathered  his  songs  at  the  side  of  camp-fires, 
and  in  canteens  at  the  first  section-house  of  a  new 
railroad,  and  his  original  collection  of  ballads  had 
had  but  few  additions  in  several  years.  MacWil 
liams  at  first  was  shy,  which  was  quite  a  new  de 
velopment,  until  he  made  them  promise  to  laugh 

87 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

if  they  wanted  to  laugh,  explaining  that  he  would 
not  mind  that  so  much  as  he  would  the  idea  that 
he  thought  he  was  serious. 

The  song  of  which  he  was  especially  fond  was 
one  called  "He  never  cares  to  wander  from  his 
own  Fireside,"  which  was  especially  appropriate 
in  coming  from  a  man  who  had  visited  almost 
every  spot  in  the  three  Americas,  except  his  home, 
in  ten  years.  MacWilliams  always  ended  the 
evening's  entertainment  with  this  chorus,  no  mat 
ter  how  many  times  it  had  been  sung  previously, 
and  seemed  to  regard  it  with  much  the  same  ven 
eration  that  the  true  Briton  feels  for  his  national 
anthem. 

The  words  of  the  chorus  were: 

*«  He  never  cares  to  wander  from  his  own  fireside, 
He  never  cares  to  wander  or  to  roam. 
With  his  babies  on  his  knee, 
He's  as  happy  as  can  be, 
For  there's  no  place  like  Home,  Sweet  Home." 

MacWilliams  loved  accidentals,  and  what  he 
called  "barber-shop  chords."  He  used  a  beautiful 
accidental  at  the  word  "be,"  of  which  he  was  very 
fond,  and  he  used  to  hang  on  that  note  for  a  long 
time,  so  that  those  in  the  extreme  rear  of  the  hall, 
as  he  was  wont  to  explain,  should  get  the  full 
benefit  of  it.  And  it  was  his  custom  to  empha- 

88 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

size  "for"  in  the  last  line  by  speaking  Instead  of 
singing  it,  and  then  coming  to  a  full  stop  before 
dashing  on  again  with  the  excellent  truth  that 
"there  is  NO  place  like  Home,  Sweet  Home." 

The  men  at  the  mines  used  to  laugh  at  him  and 
his  song  at  first,  but  they  saw  that  it  was  not  to 
be  so  laughed  away,  and  that  he  regarded  it  with 
some  peculiar  sentiment.  So  they  suffered  him  to 
sing  it  in  peace. 

MacWilliams  went  through  his  repertoire  to  the 
unconcealed  amusement  of  young  Langham  and 
Hope.  When  he  had  finished  he  asked  Hope  if 
she  knew  a  comic  song  of  which  he  had  only  heard 
by  reputation.  One  of  the  men  at  the  mines  had 
gained  a  certain  celebrity  by  claiming  to  have 
heard  it  in  the  States,  but  as  he  gave  a  completely 
new  set  of  words  to  the  tune  of  the  "Wearing  of 
the  Green"  as  the  true  version,  his  veracity  was 
doubted.  Hope  said  she  knew  it,  of  course,  and 
they  all  went  into  the  drawing-room,  where  the 
men  grouped  themselves  about  the  piano.  It  was 
a  night  they  remembered  long  afterward.  Hope 
sat  at  the  piano  protesting  and  laughing,  but  sing 
ing  the  songs  of  which  the  new-comers  had  be 
come  so  weary,  but  which  the  three  men  heard 
open-eyed,  and  hailed  with  shouts  of  pleasure. 
The  others  enjoyed  them  and  their  delight,  as 
though  they  were  people  In  a  play  expressing  them- 

89 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

selves  in  this  extravagant  manner  for  their  enter* 
tainment,  until  they  understood  how  poverty- 
stricken  their  lives  had  been  and  that  they  were 
not  only  enjoying  the  music  for  itself,  but  because 
it  was  characteristic  of  all  that  they  had  left  be 
hind  them.  It  was  pathetic  to  hear  them  boast 
of  having  read  of  a  certain  song  in  such  a  paper, 
and  of  the  fact  that  they  knew  the  plot  of  a  late 
comic  opera  and  the  names  of  those  who  had 
played  in  it,  and  that  it  had  or  had  not  been  ac 
ceptable  to  the  New  York  public. 

"Dear  me,"  Hope  would  cry,  looking  over  her 
shoulder  with  a  despairing  glance  at  her  sister  and 
father,  "they  don't  even  know  'Tommy  Atkins' !" 

It  was  a  very  happy  evening  for  them  all,  fore 
shadowing,  as  it  did,  a  continuation  of  just  such 
evenings.  Young  Langham  was  radiant  with 
pleasure  at  the  good  account  which  Clay  had  given 
of  him  to  his  father,  and  Mr.  Langham  was  grati 
fied,  and  proud  of  the  manner  in  which  his  son 
and  heir  had  conducted  himself;  and  MacWil- 
liams,  who  had  never  before  been  taken  so  sim 
ply  and  sincerely  by  people  of  a  class  that  he 
had  always  held  in  humorous  awe,  felt  a  sudden 
accession  of  dignity,  and  an  unhappy  fear  that 
when  they  laughed  at  what  he  said,  it  was  be 
cause  its  sense  was  so  utterly  different  from  their 
point  of  view,  and  not  because  they  saw  the  hu- 

90 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

mor  of  it.  He  did  not  know  what  the  word  "snob" 
signified,  and  in  his  roughened,  easy-going  nature 
there  was  no  touch  of  false  pride;  but  he  could 
not  help  thinking  how  surprised  his  people  would 
be  if  they  could  see  him,  whom  they  regarded  as 
a  wanderer  and  renegade  on  the  face  of  the  earth 
and  the  prodigal  of  the  family,  and  for  that  reason 
the  best  loved,  leaning  over  a  grand  piano,  while 
one  daughter  of  his  much-revered  president  played 
comic  songs  for  his  delectation,  and  the  other,  who 
according  to  the  newspapers  refused  princes  daily, 
and  who  was  the  most  wonderful  creature  he  had 
ever  seen,  poured  out  his  coffee  and  brought  it  to 
him  with  her  own  hands. 

The  evening  came  to  an  end  at  last,  and  the 
new  arrivals  accompanied  their  visitors  to  the  ve 
randa  as  they  started  to  their  cabin  for  the  night. 
Clay  was  asking  Mr.  Langham  when  he  wished 
to  visit  the  mines,  and  the  others  were  laughing 
over  farewell  speeches,  when  young  Lanrrham 
startled  them  all  by  hurrying  down  the  length  of 
the  veranda  and  calling  on  them  to  follow. 

"Look!"  he  cried,  pointing  down  the  inlet. 
"Here  comes  a  man-of-war,  or  a  yacht.  Isn't  she 
smart-looking?  What  can  she  want  here  at  this 
hour  of  the  night?  They  won't  let  them  land. 
Can  you  make  her  out,  MacWilliams?" 

A  long,  white  ship  was  steaming  slowly  up  the 
91 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

inlet,  and  passed  within  a  few  hundred  feet  of  the 
cliff  on  which  they  were  standing. 

"Why,  it's  the  'Vesta' !"  exclaimed  Hope,  won- 
deringly.  "I  thought  she  wasn't  coming  for  a 
week?" 

"It  can't  be  the  'Vesta'!"  said  the  elder  sister; 
"she  was  not  to  have  sailed  from  Havana  until 
to-day." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Langham.  "Is 
it  King's  boat?  Do  you  expect  him  here?  Oh, 
what  fun!  I  say,  Clay,  here's  the  'Vesta,'  Reggie 
King's  yacht,  and  he's  no  end  of  a  sport.  We 
can  go  all  over  the  place  now,  and  he  can  land 
us  right  at  the  door  of  the  mines  if  we  want 
to." 

"Is  it  the  King  I  met  at  dinner  that  night?" 
asked  Clay,  turning  to  Miss  Langham. 

"Yes,"  she  said.  "He  wanted  us  to  come  down 
on  the  yacht,  but  we  thought  the  steamer  would 
be  faster;  so  he  sailed  without  us  and  was  to  have 
touched  at  Havana,  but  he  has  apparently  changed 
his  course.  Doesn't  she  look  like  a  phantom  ship 
in  the  moonlight?" 

Young  Langham  thought  he  could  distinguish 
King  among  the  white  figures  on  the  bridge,  and 
tossed  his  hat  and  shouted,  and  a  man  in  the  stern 
of  the  yacht  replied  with  a  wave  of  his  hand. 

"That  must  be  Mr.  King,"  said  Hope.  "He 
92 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

didn't  bring  any  one  with  him,  and  he  seems  to 
be  the  only  man  aft." 

They  stood  watching  the  yacht  as  she  stopped 
with  a  rattle  of  anchor-chains  and  a  confusion  of 
orders  that  came  sharply  across  the  water,  and 
then  the  party  separated  and  the  three  men  walked 
down  the  hill,  Langham  eagerly  assuring  the  other 
two  that  King  was  a  very  good  sort,  and  telling 
them  what  a  treasure-house  his  yacht  was,  and  how 
he  would  have  probably  brought  the  latest  papers, 
and  that  he  would  certainly  give  a  dance  on  board 
in  their  honor. 

The  men  stood  for  some  short  time  together, 
after  they  had  reached  the  office,  discussing  the 
great  events  of  the  day,  and  then  with  cheer 
ful  good-nights  disappeared  into  their  separate 
rooms. 

An  hour  later  Clay  stood  without  his  coat,  and 
with  a  pen  in  his  hand,  at  MacWilliams's  bedside 
and  shook  him  by  the  shoulder. 

"I'm  not  asleep,"  said  MacWilliams,  sitting  up; 
"what  is  It?  What  have  you  been  doing?"  he 
demanded.  "Not  working?" 

"There  were  some  reports  came  in  after  we 
left,"  said  Clay,  "and  I  find  I  will  have  to  see 
Kirkland  to-morrow  morning.  Send  them  word 
to  run  me  down  on  an  engine  at  five-thirty,  will 
you?  I  am  sorry  to  have  to  wake  you,  but  I 

93 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

couldn't  remember  in  which  shack  that  engineer 
lives." 

MacWilliams  jumped  from  his  bed  and  began 
kicking  about  the  floor  for  his  boots.  "Oh,  that's 
all  right,"  he  said.  "I  wasn't  asleep,  I  was  just — " 
he  lowered  his  voice  that  Langham  might  not  hear 
him  through  the  canvas  partitions — "I  was  just 
lying  awake  playing  duets  with  the  President,  and 
racing  for  the  International  Cup  in  my  new  cen 
tre-board  yacht,  that's  all!" 

MacWilliams  buttoned  a  waterproof  coat  over 
his  pajamas  and  stamped  his  bare  feet  into  his 
boots.  "Oh,  I  tell  you,  Clay,"  he  said  with  a  grim 
chuckle,  "we're  mixing  right  in  with  the  four  hun 
dred,  we  are  !  I'm  substitute  and  understudy  when 
anybody  gets  ill.  We're  right  in  our  own  class 
at  last!  Pure  amateurs  with  no  professional  rec 
ord  against  us.  Me  and  President  Langham,  I 
guess!"  He  struck  a  match  and  lit  the  smoky 
wick  in  a  tin  lantern. 

"But  now,"  he  said,  cheerfully,  "my  time  being 
too  valuable  for  me  to  sleep,  I  will  go  wake  up 
that  nigger  engine-driver  and  set  his  alarm  clock 
at  five-thirty.  Five-thirty,  I  believe  you  said.  All 
right;  good-night."  And  whistling  cheerfully  to 
himself  MacWilliams  disappeared  up  the  hill,  his 
body  hidden  in  the  darkness  and  his  legs  showing 

94 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

fantastically  in  the  light  of  the  swinging  lan 
tern. 

Clay  walked  out  upon  the  veranda  and  stood 
with  his  back  to  one  of  the  pillars.  MacWilliams 
and  his  pleasantries  disturbed  and  troubled  him. 
Perhaps,  after  all,  the  boy  was  right.  It  seemed 
absurd,  but  it  was  true.  They  were  only  em 
ployees  of  Langham — two  of  the  thousands  of 
young  men  who  were  working  all  over  the  United 
States  to  please  him,  to  make  him  richer,  to  whom 
he  was  only  a  name  and  a  power,  which  meant  an 
increase  of  salary  or  the  loss  of  place. 

Clay  laughed  and  shrugged  his  shoulders.  He 
knew  that  he  was  not  in  that  class;  if  he  did  good 
work  it  was  because  his  self-respect  demanded  it 
of  him;  he  did  not  wrork  for  Langham  or  the 
Olancho  Mining  Company  (Limited).  And  yet 
he  turned  with  almost  a  feeling  of  resentment 
toward  the  \vhite  yacht  lying  calmly  in  magnificent 
repose  a  hundred  yards  from  his  porch. 

He  could  see  her  as  clearly  in  her  circle  of  elec 
tric  lights  as  though  she  were  a  picture  and  held 
In  the  light  of  a  stereopticon  on  a  screen.  He 
could  see  her  white  decks,  and  the  rails  of  polished 
brass,  and  the  comfortable  wicker  chairs  and  gay 
cushions  and  flat  coils  of  rope,  and  the  tapering 
masts  and  intricate  rigging.  How  easy  it  was 

95 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

made  for  some  men !  This  one  had  come  like  the 
prince  in  the  fairy  tale  on  his  magic  carpet.  If 
Alice  Langham  were  to  leave  Valencia  that  next 
day,  Clay  could  not  follow  her.  He  had  his  du 
ties  and  responsibilities;  he  was  at  another  man's 
bidding. 

But  this  Prince  Fortunatus  had  but  to  raise  an 
chor  and  start  in  pursuit,  knowing  that  he  would 
be  welcome  wherever  he  found  her.  That  was 
the  worst  of  it  to  Clay,  for  he  knew  that  men  did 
not  follow  women  from  continent  to  continent 
without  some  assurance  of  a  friendly  greeting. 
Clay's  mind  went  back  to  the  days  when  he  was 
a  boy,  when  his  father  was  absent  fighting  for  a 
lost  cause;  when  his  mother  taught  in  a  little 
schoolhouse  under  the  shadow  of  Pike's  Peak,  and 
when  Kit  Carson  was  his  hero.  He  thought  of 
the  poverty  of  those  days — poverty  so  mean  and 
hopeless  that  it  was  almost  something  to  feel 
shame  for;  of  the  days  that  followed  when,  an 
orphan  and  without  a  home,  he  had  sailed  away 
from  New  Orleans  to  the  Cape.  How  the  mind 
of  the  mathematician,  which  he  had  inherited  from 
the  Boston  schoolmistress,  had  been  swayed  by 
the  spirit  of  the  soldier,  which  he  had  inherited 
from  his  father,  and  which  led  him  from  the 
mines  of  South  Africa  to  little  wars  in  Madagas 
car,  Egypt,  and  Algiers.  It  had  been  a  life  as 

96 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

restless  as  the  seaweed  on  a  rock.  But  as  he 
looked  back  to  its  poor  beginnings  and  admitted 
to  himself  its  later  successes,  he  gave  a  sigh  of 
content,  and  shaking  off  the  mood  stood  up  and 
paced  the  length  of  the  veranda. 

He  looked  up  the  hill  to  the  low-roofed  bunga 
low  with  the  palm-leaves  about  it,  outlined  against 
the  sky,  and  as  motionless  as  patterns  cut  in  tin. 
He  had  built  that  house.  He  had  built  it  for  her. 
That  was  her  room  where  the  light  was  shining 
out  from  the  black  bulk  of  the  house  about  it  like 
a  star.  And  beyond  the  house  he  saw  his  five 
great  mountains,  the  knuckles  of  the  giant  hand, 
with  its  gauntlet  of  iron  that  lay  shut  and  clenched 
in  the  face  of  the  sea  that  swept  up  whimpering 
before  it.  Clay  felt  a  boyish,  foolish  pride  rise 
in  his  breast  as  he  looked  toward  the  great  mines 
he  had  discovered  and  opened,  at  the  iron 
mountains  that  were  crumbling  away  before  his 
touch. 

He  turned  his  eyes  again  to  the  blazing  yacht, 
and  this  time  there  was  no  trace  of  envy  in  them. 
He  laughed  instead,  partly  with  pleasure  at  the 
thought  of  the  struggle  he  scented  in  the  air,  and 
partly  at  his  own  braggadocio. 

"I'm  not  afraid,"  he  said,  smiling,  and  shaking 
his  head  at  the  white  ship  that  loomed  up  like 
a  man-of-war  in  the  black  waters.  "I'm  not 

97 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

afraid  to  fight  you  for  anything  worth  fighting 
for." 

He  bowed  his  bared  head  in  good-night  toward 
the  light  on  the  hill,  as  he  turned  and  walked  back 
into  his  bedroom.  "And  I  think,"  he  murmured 
grimly,  as  he  put  out  the  light,  "that  she  is  worth 
fighting  for." 


98 


IV 


work  which  had  called  Clay  to  the  mines 
JL  kept  him  there  for  some  time,  and  it  was 
not  until  the  third  day  after  the  arrival  of  the 
Langhams  that  he  returned  again  to  the  Palms. 
On  the  afternoon  when  he  climbed  the  hill 
to  the  bungalow  he  found  the  Langhams  as 
he  had  left  them,  with  the  difference  that  King 
now  occupied  a  place  in  the  family  circle.  Clay 
was  made  so  welcome,  and  especially  so  by  King, 
that  he  felt  rather  ashamed  of  his  sentiments 
toward  him,  and  considered  his  three  days  of  ab 
sence  to  be  well  repaid  by  the  heartiness  of  their 
greeting. 

"For  myself,"  said  Mr.  Langham,  "I  don't  be 
lieve  you  had  anything  to  do  at  the  mines  at  all. 
I  think  you  went  away  just  to  show  us  how  neces 
sary  you  are.  But  if  you  want  me  to  make  a  good 
report  of  our  resident  director  on  my  return,  you 
had  better  devote  yourself  less  to  the  mines  while 
you  are  here  and  more  to  us."  Clay  said  he  was 
glad  to  find  that  his  duties  were  to  be  of  so  pleas 
ant  a  nature,  and  asked  them  what  they  had  seen 
and  what  they  had  done. 

99 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

They  told  him  they  had  been  nowhere,  but  had 
waited  for  his  return  in  order  that  he  might  act 
as  their  guide. 

"Then  you  should  see  the  city  at  once,"  said 
Clay,  "and  I  will  have  the  volante  brought  to  the 
door,  and  we  can  all  go  in  this  afternoon.  There 
is  room  for  the  four  of  you  inside,  and  I  can  sit 
on  the  box-seat  with  the  driver." 

"No,"  said  King,  "let  Hope  or  me  sit  on  the 
box-seat.  Then  we  can  practise  our  Spanish  on 
the  driver." 

"Not  very  well,"  Clay  replied,  "for  the  driver 
sits  on  the  first  horse,  like  a  postilion.  It's  a  sort 
of  tandem  without  reins.  Haven't  you  seen  it  yet? 
We  consider  the  volante  our  proudest  exhibit." 
So  Clay  ordered  the  volante  to  be  brought  out, 
and  placed  them  facing  each  other  In  the  open 
carriage,  while  he  climbed  to  the  box-seat,  from 
which  position  of  vantage  he  pointed  out  and  ex 
plained  the  objects  of  interest  they  passed,  after 
the  manner  of  a  professional  guide.  It  was  a 
warm,  beautiful  afternoon,  and  the  clear  mists  of 
the  atmosphere  intensified  the  rich  blue  of  the  sky, 
and  the  brilliant  colors  of  the  houses,  and  the  dif 
ferent  shades  of  green  of  the  trees  and  bushes  that 
lined  the  highroad  to  the  capital. 

"To  the  right,  as  we  descend,"  said  Clay,  speak 
ing  over  his  shoulder,  "you  see  a  tin  house.  It  is 

100 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

the  home  of  the  resident  director  of  the  Olancho 
Mining  Company  (Limited),  and  of  his  able  lieu 
tenants,  Mr.  Theodore  Langham  and  Mr.  Mac- 
Williams.  The  building  on  the  extreme  left  is  the 
round-house,  in  which  Mr.  MacWilliams  stores 
his  three  locomotive  engines,  and  in  the  far  middle- 
distance  is  Mr.  MacWilliams  himself  in  the  act  of 
repairing  a  water-tank.  He  is  the  one  in  a  suit 
of  blue  overalls,  and  as  his  language  at  such  times 
is  free,  we  will  drive  rapidly  on  and  not  embarrass 
him.  Besides,"  added  the  engineer,  with  the  happy 
laugh  of  a  boy  who  had  been  treated  to  a  holiday, 
"I  am  sure  that  I  am  not  setting  him  the  example 
of  fixity  to  duty  which  he  should  expect  from  his 
chief." 

They  passed  between  high  hedges  of  Spanish 
bayonet,  and  came  to  mud  cabins  thatched  with 
palm-leaves,  and  alive  with  naked,  little  brown- 
bodied  children,  who  laughed  and  cheered  to  them 
as  they  passed. 

"It's  a  very  beautiful  country  for  the  pueblo," 
was  Clay's  comment.  "Different  parts  of  the  same 
tree  furnish  them  with  food,  shelter,  and  clothing, 
and  the  sun  gives  them  fuel,  and  the  Government 
changes  so  often  that  they  can  always  dodge  the 
tax-collector." 

From  the  mud  cabins  they  came  to  more  sub 
stantial  one-story  houses  of  adobe,  with  the  walls 

101 


Soldiers   of  Fortune 

painted  in  two  distinct  colors,  blue,  pink,  or  yel 
low,  with  red-tiled  roofs,  and  the  names  with 
which  they  had  been  christened  in  bold  black  let 
ters  above  the  entrances.  Then  the  carriage  rat 
tled  over  paved  streets,  and  they  drove  between 
houses  of  two  stories  painted  more  decorously  in 
pink  and  light  blue,  with  wide-open  windows, 
guarded  by  heavy  bars  of  finely  wrought  iron  and 
ornamented  with  scrollwork  in  stucco.  The  prin 
cipal  streets  were  given  up  to  stores  and  cafes,  all 
wide  open  to  the  pavement  and  protected  from  the 
sun  by  brilliantly  striped  awnings,  and  gay  with 
the  national  colors  of  Olancho  in  flags  and  stream 
ers.  In  front  of  them  sat  officers  in  uniform,  and 
the  dark-skinned  dandies  of  Valencia,  in  white 
duck  suits  and  Panama  hats,  toying  with  tortoise- 
shell  canes,  which  could  be  converted,  if  the  occa 
sion  demanded,  into  blades  of  Toledo  steel.  In 
the  streets  were  priests  and  bare-legged  mule- 
drivers,  and  ragged  ranchmen  with  red-caped 
cloaks  hanging  to  their  sandals,  and  negro  women, 
with  bare  shoulders  and  long  trains,  vending  lot 
tery  tickets  and  rolling  huge  cigars  between  their 
lips.  It  was  an  old  story  to  Clay  and  King,  but 
none  of  the  others  had  seen  a  Spanish-American 
city  before;  they  were  familiar  with  the  Far  East 
and  the  Mediterranean,  but  not  with  the  fierce,  hot 
tropics  of  their  sister  continent,  and  so  their  eyes 

1 02 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

were  wide  open,  and  they  kept  calling  continually 
to  one  another  to  notice  some  new  place  or  figure. 

They  in  their  turn  did  not  escape  from  notice  or 
comment.  The  two  sisters  would  have  been  con 
spicuous  anywhere — in  a  queen's  drawing-room  or 
on  an  Indian  reservation.  Theirs  was  a  type  that 
the  caballeros  and  senoritas  did  not  know.  With 
them  dark  hair  was  always  associated  with  dark 
complexions,  the  rich  duskiness  of  which  was  al 
ways  vulgarized  by  a  coat  of  powder,  and  this  fair 
blending  of  pink  and  white  skin  under  masses  of 
black  hair  was  strangely  new,  so  that  each  of  the 
few  women  who  were  to  be  met  on  the  street 
turned  to  look  after  the  carriage,  while  the  Amer 
ican  women  admired  their  mantillas,  and  felt  that 
the  straw  sailor-hats  they  wore  had  become  heavy 
and  unfeminine. 

Clay  was  very  happy  in  picking  out  what  was 
most  characteristic  and  picturesque,  and  every 
street  into  which  he  directed  the  driver  to  take 
them  seemed  to  possess  some  building  or  monu 
ment  that  was  of  peculiar  interest.  They  did  not 
know  that  he  had  mapped  out  this  ride  many  times 
before,  and  was  taking  them  over  a  route  which 
he  had  already  travelled  with  them  in  imagination. 
King  knew  what  the  capital  would  be  like  before 
he  entered  it,  from  his  experience  of  other  South 
American  cities,  but  he  acted  as  though  it  were 

103 


Soldiers  ot  Fortune 

all  new  to  him,  and  allowed  Clay  to  explain,  and 
to  give  the  reason  for  those  features  of  the  place 
that  were  unusual  and  characteristic.  Clay  noticed 
this  and  appealed  to  him  from  time  to  time,  when 
he  was  in  doubt;  but  the  other  only  smiled  back 
and  shook  his  head,  as  much  as  to  say,  "This  is 
your  city;  they  would  rather  hear  about  it  from 
you." 

Clay  took  them  to  the  principal  shops,  where 
the  two  girls  held  whispered  consultations  over 
lace  mantillas,  which  they  had  at  once  determined 
to  adopt,  and  bought  the  gorgeous  paper  fans, 
covered  with  brilliant  pictures  of  bull-fighters  in 
suits  of  silver  tinsel;  and  from  these  open  stores 
he  led  them  to  a  dingy  little  shop,  where  there 
was  old  silver  and  precious  hand-painted  fans  of 
mother-of-pearl  that  had  been  pawned  by  families 
who  had  risked  and  lost  all  in  some  revolution; 
and  then  to  another  shop,  where  two  old  maiden 
ladies  made  a  particularly  good  guava;  and  to 
tobacconists,  where  the  men  bought  a  few  of  the 
native  cigars,  which,  as  they  were  a  monopoly 
of  the  Government,  were  as  bad  as  Government 
monopolies  always  are. 

Clay  felt  a  sudden  fondness  for  the  city,  so 
grateful  was  he  to  it  for  entertaining  her  as  it  did, 
and  for  putting  its  best  front  forward  for  her  de 
lectation.  He  wanted  to  thank  some  one  for  build- 

104 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

ing  the  quaint  old  convent,  with  its  yellow  walls 
washed  to  an  orange  tint,  and  black  in  spots  with 
dampness ;  and  for  the  fountain  covered  with  green 
moss  that  stood  before  its  gate,  and  around  which 
were  gathered  the  girls  and  women  of  the  neigh 
borhood  with  red  water-jars  on  their  shoulders, 
and  little  donkeys  buried  under  stacks  of  yellow 
sugar-cane,  and  the  negro  drivers  of  the  city's 
green  water-carts,  and  the  blue  wagons  that  car 
ried  the  manufactured  ice.  Toward  five  o'clock 
they  decided  to  spend  the  rest  of  the  day  in 
the  city,  and  to  telephone  for  the  two  boys  to 
join  them  at  La  Venus,  the  great  restaurant 
on  the  plaza,  where  Clay  had  invited  them  to 
dine. 

He  suggested  that  they  should  fill  out  the  time 
meanwhile  by  a  call  on  the  President,  and  after 
a  search  for  cards  in  various  pocketbooks,  they 
drove  to  the  Government  palace,  which  stood  in 
an  open  square  in  the  heart  of  the  city. 

As  they  arrived  the  President  and  his  wife  were 
leaving  for  their  afternoon  drive  on  the  Alameda, 
the  fashionable  parade-ground  of  the  city,  and  the 
state  carnage  and  a  squad  of  cavalry  appeared 
from  the  side  of  the  palace  as  the  visitors  drove 
up  to  the  entrance.  But  at  the  sight  of  Clay, 
General  Alvarez  and  his  wife  retreated  to  the 
house  again  and  made  them  welcome.  The  Presi- 

105 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

dent  led  the  men  into  his  reception-room  and  en 
tertained  them  with  champagne  and  cigarettes, 
not  manufactured  by  his  Government;  and  his 
wife,  after  first  conducting  the  girls  through  the 
state  drawing-room,  where  the  late  sunlight  shone 
gloomily  on  strange  old  portraits  of  assassinated 
presidents  and  victorious  generals,  and  garish  yel 
low  silk  furniture,  brought  them  to  her  own  apart 
ments,  and  gave  them  tea  after  a  civilized  fashion, 
and  showed  them  how  glad  she  was  to  see  some 
one  of  her  own  world  again. 

During  their  short  visit  Madame  Alvarez  talked 
a  greater  part  of  the  time  herself,  addressing  what 
she  said  to  Miss  Langham,  but  looking  at  Hope. 
It  was  unusual  for  Hope  to  be  singled  out  in  this 
way  when  her  sister  was  present,  and  both  the 
sisters  noticed  it  and  spoke  of  it  afterwards.  They 
thought  Madame  Alvarez  very  beautiful  and  dis 
tinguished-looking,  and  she  impressed  them,  even 
after  that  short  knowledge  of  her,  as  a  woman 
of  great  force  of  character. 

"She  was  very  well  dressed  for  a  Spanish  wom 
an,"  was  Miss  Langham's  comment,  later  in  the 
afternoon.  "But  everything  she  had  on  was  just 
a  year  behind  the  fashions,  or  twelve  steamer  days 
behind,  as  Mr.  MacWilliams  puts  it." 

"She  reminded  me,"  said  Hope,  "of  a  black 
panther  I  saw  once  in  a  circus." 

1 06 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"Dear  me!"  exclaimed  the  sister,  "I  don't  see 
that  at  all.  Why?" 

Hope  said  she  did  not  know  why;  she  was  not 
given  to  analyzing  her  impressions  or  offering  rea 
sons  for  them.  "Because  the  panther  looked  so 
unhappy,"  she  explained,  doubtfully,  "and  rest 
less;  and  he  kept  pacing  up  and  down  all  the 
time,  and  hitting  his  head  against  the  bars  as  he 
walked  as  though  he  liked  the  pain.  Madame 
Alvarez  seemed  to  me  to  be  just  like  that — as 
though  she  were  shut  up  somewhere  and  wanted 
to  be  free." 

When  Madame  Alvarez  and  the  two  sisters  had 
joined  the  men,  they  all  walked  together  to  the 
terrace,  and  the  visitors  waited  until  the  President 
and  his  wife  should  take  their  departure.  Hope 
noticed,  in  advance  of  the  escort  of  native  cavalry, 
an  auburn-haired,  fair-skinned  young  man  who  was 
sitting  an  English  saddle.  The  officer's  eyes  were 
blue  and  frank  and  attractive-looking,  even  as 
they  then  were  fixed  ahead  of  him  with  a  military 
lack  of  expressi-on ;  but  he  came  to  life  very  sud 
denly  when  the  President  called  to  him,  and  prod 
ded  his  horse  up  to  the  steps  and  dismounted.  He 
was  introduced  by  Alvarez  as  "Captain  Stuart  of 
my  household  troops,  late  of  the  Gordon  High 
landers.  Captain  Stuart,"  said  the  President,  lay 
ing  his  hand  affectionately  on  the  younger  man's 

107 


epaulette,  "takes  care  of  my  life  and  the  safety 
of  my  home  and  family.  He  could  have  the  com 
mand  of  the  army  if  he  wished;  but  no,  he  is  fond 
of  us,  and  he  tells  me  we  are  in  more  need  of 
protection  from  our  friends  at  home  than  from 
our  enemies  on  the  frontier.  Perhaps  he  knows 
best.  I  trust  him,  Mr.  Langham,"  added  the 
President,  solemnly,  "as  I  trust  no  other  man  in 
all  this  country." 

"I  am  very  glad  to  meet  Captain  Stuart,  I  am 
sure,"  said  Mr.  Langham,  smiling,  and  appreci 
ating  how  the  shyness  of  the  Englishman  must  be 
suffering  under  the  praises  of  the  Spaniard.  And 
Stuart  was  indeed  so  embarrassed  that  he  flushed 
under  his  tan,  and  assured  Clay,  while  shaking 
hands  with  them  all,  that  he  was  delighted  to 
make  his  acquaintance;  at  which  the  others 
laughed,  and  Stuart  came  to  himself  sufficiently 
to  laugh  with  them,  and  to  accept  Clay's  invita 
tion  to  dine  with  them  later. 

They  found  the  two  boys  waiting  in  the  cafe 
of  the  restaurant  where  they  had  arranged  to  meet, 
and  they  ascended  the  steps  together  to  the  table 
on  the  balcony  that  Clay  had  reserved  for  them. 

The  young  engineer  appeared  at  his  best  as 
host.  The  responsibility  of  seeing  that  a  half- 
dozen  others  were  amused  and  content  sat  well 
upon  him;  and  as  course  followed  course,  and  the 

1 08 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

wines  changed,  and  the  candles  left  the  rest  of 
the  room  in  darkness  and  showed  only  the  table 
and  the  faces  around  it,  they  all  became  rapidly 
more  merry  and  the  conversation  intimately  fa 
miliar. 

Clay  knew  the  kind  of  table-talk  to  which  the 
Langhams  were  accustomed,  and  used  the  material 
around  his  table  in  such  a  way  that  the  talk  there 
was  vastly  different.  From  King  he  drew  forth 
tales  of  the  buried  cities  he  had  first  explored,  and 
then  robbed  of  their  ugliest  idols.  He  urged  Mac- 
Williams  to  tell  carefully  edited  stories  of  life 
along  the  Chagres  before  the  Scandal  came,  and 
of  the  fastnesses  of  the  Andes;  and  even  Stuart 
grew  braver  and  remembered  "something  of  the 
same  sort"  he  had  seen  at  Fort  Nilt,  in  Upper 
Burma. 

"Of  course,"  was  Clay's  comment  at  the  con 
clusion  of  one  of  these  narratives,  "being  an  Eng 
lishman,  Stuart  left  out  the  point  of  the  story, 
which  was  that  he  blew  in  the  gates  of  the  fort 
with  a  charge  of  dynamite.  He  got  a  D.  S.  O.  for 
doing  it." 

"Being  an  Englishman,"  said  Hope,  smiling 
encouragingly  on  the  conscious  Stuart,  "he  nat 
urally  would  leave  that  out." 

Mr.  Langham  and  his  daughters  formed  an 
eager  audience.  They  had  never  before  met  at 

ing 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

one  table  three  men  who  had  known  such  expe 
riences,  and  who  spoke  of  them  as  though  they 
must  be  as  familiar  in  the  lives  of  the  others  as 
in  their  own — men  who  spoiled  in  the  telling 
stories  that  would  have  furnished  incidents  for 
melodramas,  and  who  impressed  their  hearers 
more  with  what  they  left  unsaid,  and  what  was 
only  suggested,  than  what  in  their  view  was  the 
most  important  point. 

The  dinner  came  to  an  end  at  last,  and  Mr. 
Langham  proposed  that  they  should  go  down  and 
walk  with  the  people  in  the  plaza;  but  his  two 
daughters  preferred  to  remain  as  spectators  on 
the  balcony,  and  Clay  and  Stuart  stayed  with 
them. 

"At  last!"  sighed  Clay,  under  his  breath,  seat 
ing  himself  at  Miss  Langham's  side  as  she  sat 
leaning  forward  with  her  arms  upon  the  railing 
and  looking  down  into  the  plaza  below.  She 
made  no  sign  at  first  that  she  had  heard  him,  but 
as  the  voices  of  Stuart  and  Hope  rose  from  the 
other  end  of  the  balcony  she  turned  her  head  and 
asked,  "Why  at  last?" 

"Oh,  you  couldn't  understand,"  laughed  Clay. 
"You  have  not  been  looking  forward  to  just  one 
thing  and  then  had  it  come  true.  It  is  the  only 
thing  that  ever  did  come  true  to  me,  and  I  thought 
it  never  would." 

"You  don't  try  to  make  me  understand,"  said 
no 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

*he  girl,  smiling,  but  without  turning  her  eyes 
from  the  moving  spectacle  below  her.  Clay  con 
sidered  her  challenge  silently.  He  did  not  know 
just  how  much  it  might  mean  from  her,  and  the 
smile  robbed  it  of  all  serious  intent;  so  he,  too, 
turned  and  looked  down  into  the  great  square  be 
low  them,  content,  now  that  she  was  alone  with 
him,  to  take  his  time. 

At  one  end  of  the  plaza  the  President's  band 
was  playing  native  waltzes  that  came  throbbing 
through  the  trees  and  beating  softly  above  the 
rustling  skirts  and  clinking  spurs  of  the  senoritas 
and  officers,  sweeping  by  in  two  opposite  circles 
around  the  edges  of  the  tessellated  pavements. 
Above  the  palms  around  the  square  arose  the  dim, 
white  facade  of  the  cathedral,  with  the  bronze 
statue  of  Anduella,  the  liberator  of  Olancho,  who 
answered  with  his  upraised  arm  and  cocked  hat 
the  cheers  of  an  imaginary  populace.  Clay's  had 
been  an  unobtrusive  part  in  the  evening's  enter 
tainment,  but  he  saw  that  the  others  had  been 
pleased,  and  felt  a  certain  satisfaction  in  thinking 
that  King  himself  could  not  have  planned  and 
carried  out  a  dinner  more  admirable  in  every  way. 
He  was  gratified  that  they  should  know  him  to  be 
not  altogether  a  barbarian.  But  what  he  best 
liked  to  remember  was  that  whenever  he  had 
spoken  she  had  listened,  even  when  her  eyes  were 
turned  away  and  she  was  pretending  to  listen  to 

in 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

some  one  else.  He  tormented  himself  by  wonder 
ing  whether  this  was  because  he  interested  her  only 
as  a  new  and  strange  character,  or  whether  she 
felt  in  some  way  how  eagerly  he  was  seeking  her 
approbation.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he 
found  himself  considering  what  he  was  about  to 
say,  and  he  suited  it  for  her  possible  liking.  It 
was  at  least  some  satisfaction  that  she  had,  if 
only  for  the  time  being,  singled  him  out  as  of 
especial  interest,  and  he  assured  himself  that 
the  fault  would  be  his  if  her  interest  failed. 
He  no  longer  looked  on  himself  as  an  out 
sider. 

Stuart's  voice  arose  from  the  farther  end  of  the 
balcony,  where  the  white  figure  of  Hope  showed 
dimly  in  the  darkness. 

"They  are  talking  about  you  over  there,"  said 
Miss  Langham,  turning  toward  him. 

"Well,  I  don't  mind,"  answered  Clay,  "as  long 
as  they  talk  about  me — over  there." 

Miss  Langham  shook  her  head.  "You  are  very 
frank  and  audacious,"  she  replied,  doubtfully, 
"but  it  is  rather  pleasant  as  a  change." 

"I  don't  call  that  audacious,  to  say  I  don't  want 
to  be  interrupted  when  I  am  talking  to  you. 
Aren't  the  men  you  meet  generally  audacious?" 
he  asked.  "I  can  see  why  not — though,"  he  con 
tinued,  "you  awe  them." 

IT2 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"I  can't  think  that's  a  nice  way  to  affect  people," 
protested  Miss  Langham,  after  a  pause.  "I  don't 
awe  you,  do  I?" 

"Oh,  you  affect  me  in  many  different  ways," 
returned  Clay,  cheerfully.  "Sometimes  I  am  very 
much  afraid  of  you,  and  then  again  my  feelings 
are  only  those  of  unlimited  admiration." 

"There,  again,  what  did  I  tell  you?"  said  Miss 
Langham. 

"Well,  I  can't  help  doing  that,"  said  Clay. 
"That  is  one  of  the  few  privileges  that  is  left 
to  a  man  in  my  position — it  doesn't  matter  what 
I  say.  That  is  the  advantage  of  being  of  no  ac 
count  and  hopelessly  detrimental.  The  eligible 
men  of  the  world,  you  see,  have  to  be  so  very 
careful.  A  Prime  Minister,  for  instance,  can't 
talk  as  he  wishes,  and  call  names  if  he  wants  to, 
or  write  letters,  even.  Whatever  he  says  is  so 
important,  because  he  says  it,  that  he  must  be  very 
discreet.  I  am  so  unimportant  that  no  one  minds 
what  I  say,  and  so  I  say  it.  It's  the  only  com 
fort  I  have." 

"Are  you  in  the  habit  of  going  around  the  world 
saying  whatever  you  choose  to  every  woman  you 
happen  to — to—  '  Miss  Langham  hesitated. 

"To  admire  very  much,"  suggested  Clay. 

"To  meet,"  corrected  Miss  Langham.  "Be 
cause,  if  you  are,  It  is  a  very  dangerous  and  selfish 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

practice,  and  I  think  your  theory  of  non-respon 
sibility  is  a  very  wicked  one." 

"Well,  I  wouldn't  say  it  to  a  child,"  mused 
Clay,  "but  to  one  who  must  have  heard  it  be 
fore—" 

"And  who,  you  think,  would  like  to  hear  it 
again,  perhaps,"  interrupted  Miss  Langham. 

"No,  not  at  all,"  said  Clay.  "I  don't  say  it  to 
give  her  pleasure,  but  because  it  gives  me  pleasure 
to  say  what  I  think." 

"If  we  are  to  continue  good  friends,  Mr.  Clay," 
said  Miss  Langham,  in  decisive  tones,  "we  must 
keep  our  relationship  on  more  of  a  social  and  less 
of  a  personal  basis.  It  was  all  very  well  that  first 
night  I  met  you,"  she  went  on,  in  a  kindly  tone. 
"You  rushed  in  then  and  by  a  sort  of  tour  de  force 
made  me  think  a  great  deal  about  myself  and  also 
about  you.  Your  stories  of  cherished  photographs 
and  distant  devotion  and  all  that  were  very  inter 
esting;  but  now  we  are  to  be  together  a  great  deal, 
and  if  we  are  to  talk  about  ourselves  all  the  time, 
I  for  one  shall  grow  very  tired  of  it.  As  a  matter 
of  fact  you  don't  know  what  your  feelings  are 
concerning  me,  and  until  you  do  we  will  talk  less 
about  them  and  more  about  the  things  you  are 
certain  of.  When  are  you  going  to  take  us  to 
the  mines,  for  instance,  and  who  was  Anduella, 
the  Liberator  of  Olancho,  on  that  pedestal  over 

114 


Soldiers  of   Fortune 

there?      Now,    isn't    that    much    more    Instruc 
tive?" 

Clay  smiled  grimly  and  made  no  answer,  but 
sat  with  knitted  brows  looking  out  across  the  trees 
of  the  plaza.  His  face  was  so  serious  and  he  was 
apparently  giving  such  earnest  consideration  to 
what  she  had  said  that  Miss  Langham  felt  an 
uneasy  sense  of  remorse.  And,  moreover,  the 
young  man's  profile,  as  he  sat  looking  away  from 
her,  was  very  fine,  and  the  head  on  his  broad 
shoulders  was  as  well-modelled  as  the  head  of  an 
Athenian  statue.  Miss  Langham  was  not  insensi 
ble  to  beauty  of  any  sort,  and  she  regarded  the 
profile  with  perplexity  and  with  a  softening  spirit. 

"You  understand,"  she  said,  gently,  being  quite 
certain  that  she  did  not  understand  this  new  order 
of  young  man  herself.  "You  are  not  offended 
with  me?"  she  asked. 

Clay  turned  and  frowned,  and  then  smiled  in 
a  puzzled  way  and  stretched  out  his  hand  toward 
the  equestrian  statue  in  the  plaza.  "Andulla  or 
Anduella,  the  Treaty-Maker,  as  they  call  him, 
was  born  in  1700,"  he  said;  "he  was  a  most  pict 
uresque  sort  of  a  chap,  and  freed  this  country 
from  the  yoke  of  Spain.  One  of  the  stories  they 
tell  of  him  gives  you  a  good  idea  of  his  charac 
ter."  And  so,  without  any  change  of  exoression 
or  reference  to  what  had  just  passed  between 

US 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

Clay  continued  through  the  remainder  of  their 
stay  on  the  balcony  to  discourse  in  humorous, 
graphic  phrases  on  the  history  of  Olancho,  its  he 
roes,  and  its  revolutions,  the  buccaneers  and  pirates 
of  the  old  days,  and  the  concession-hunters  and 
filibusters  of  the  present.  It  was  some  time  before 
Miss  Langham  was  able  to  give  him  her  full  at 
tention,  for  she  was  considering  whether  he  could 
be  so  foolish  as  to  have  taken  offence  at  what  she 
said,  and  whether  he  would  speak  of  it  again,  and 
in  wondering  whether  a  personal  basis  for  con 
versation  was  not,  after  all,  more  entertaining 
than  anecdotes  of  the  victories  and  heroism  of 
dead  and  buried  Spaniards. 

"That  Captain  Stuart,"  said  Hope  to  her  sister, 
as  they  drove  home  together  through  the  moon 
light,  "I  like  him  very  much.  He  seems  to  have 
such  a  simple  idea  of  what  is  right  and  good. 
It  is  like  a  child  talking.  Why,  I  am  really  much 
older  than  he  is  in  everything  but  years — why  is 
that?" 

"I  suppose  it's  because  we  always  talk  before 
you  as  though  you  were  a  grown-up  person,"  said 
her  sister.  "But  I  agree  with  you  about  Captain 
Stuart;  only,  why  is  he  down  here?  If  he  is  a 
gentleman,  why  is  he  not  in  his  own  army?  Was 
he  forced  to  leave  it?" 

"Oh,  he  seems  to  have  a  very  good  position 
116 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

h«re,"  said  Mr.  Langham.  "In  England,  at  his 
age,  he  would  be  only  a  second-lieutenant.  Don't 
you  remember  what  the  President  said,  that  he 
would  trust  him  with  the  command  of  his  army? 
That's  certainly  a  responsible  position,  and  it 
shows  great  confidence  in  him." 

"Not  so  great,  it  seems  to  me,"  said  King,"  care 
lessly,  "as  he  is  showing  him  in  making  him  the 
guardian  of  his  hearth  and  home.  Did  you  hear 
what  he  said  to-day?  'He  guards  my  home  and 
my  family.'  I  don't  think  a  man's  home  and 
family  are  among  the  things  he  can  afford  to 
leave  to  the  protection  of  stray  English  subalterns. 
From  all  I  hear,  it  would  be  better  if  President 
Alvarez  did  less  plotting  and  protected  his  own 
house  himself." 

"The  young  man  did  not  strike  me  as  the  sort 
of  person,"  said  Mr.  Langham,  warmly,  "who 
would  be  likely  to  break  his  word  to  the  man  who 
is  feeding  him  and  sheltering  him,  and  whose  uni 
form  he  wears.  I  don't  think  the  President's 
home  is  in  any  danger  from  within.  Madame 
Alvarez — " 

Clay  turned  suddenly  In  his  place  on  the  box- 
seat  of  the  carriage,  where  he  had  been  sitting, 
a  silent,  misty  statue  in  the  moonlight,  and  peered 
down  on  those  in  the  carriage  below  him. 

"Madame  Alvarez  needs  no  protection,  as  you 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

were  about  to  say,  Mr.  Langham,"  he  interrupt 
ed,  quickly.  "Those  who  know  her  could  say 
nothing  against  her,  and  those  who  do  not  know 
her  would  not  so  far  forget  themselves  as  to  dare 
to  do  it.  Have  you  noticed  the  effect  of  the 
moonlight  on  the  walls  of  the  convent?"  he 
continued,  gently.  "It  makes  them  quite 
white." 

"No,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Langham  and  King,  hur 
riedly,  as  they  both  turned  and  gazed  writh  ab 
sorbing  interest  at  the  convent  on  the  hills  above 
them. 

Before  the  sisters  went  to  sleep  that  night  Hope 
came  to  the  door  of  her  sister's  room  and  watched 
Alice  admiringly  as  she  sat  before  the  mirror 
brushing  out  her  hair. 

"I  .think  it's  going  to  be  fine  down  here;  don't 
you,  Alice?"  she  asked.  "Everything  is  so  dif 
ferent  from  what  it  is  at  home,  and  so  beautiful, 
and  I  like  the  men  we've  met.  Isn't  that  Mr. 
MacWilliams  funny — and  he  is  so  tough.  And 
Captain  Stuart — it  is  a  pity  he's  shy.  The  only 
thing  he  seems  to  be  able  to  talk  about  is  Mr. 
Clay.  He  worships  Mr.  Clay!" 

"Yes,"  assented  her  sister,  "I  noticed  on  the 
balcony  that  you  seemed  to  have  found  some  way 
to  make  him  speak." 

"Well,  that  was  it.  He  likes  to  talk  about  Mr. 
118 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

Clay,  and  I  wanted  to  listen.  Oh !  he  is  a  fine 
man.  He  has  done  more  exciting  things — " 

"Who?     Captain  Stuart?" 

"No — Mr.  Clay.  He's  been  in  three  real  wars 
and  about  a  dozen  little  ones,  and  he's  built  thou 
sands  of  miles  of  railroads,  I  don't  know  how 
many  thousands,  but  Captain  Stuart  knows;  and 
he  built  the  highest  bridge  in  Peru.  It  swings  in 
the  air  across  a  chasm,  and  it  rocks  when  the  wind 
blows.  And  the  German  Emperor  made  him  a 
Baron." 

"Why?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  couldn't  understand.  It  was 
something  about  plans  for  fortifications.  He,  Mr. 
Clay,  put  up  a  fort  in  the  harbor  of  Rio  Janeiro 
during  a  revolution,  and  the  officers  on  a  German 
man-of-war  saw  it  and  copied  the  plans,  and  the 
Germans  built  one  just  like  it,  only  larger,  on  the 
Baltic,  and  when  the  Emperor  found  out  whose 
design  it  was,  he  sent  Mr.  Clay  the  order  of  some- 
thing-or-other,  and  made  him  a  Baron." 

"Really,"  exclaimed  the  elder  sister,  "isn't  he 
afraid  that  some  one  will  marry  him  for  his  title?" 

"Oh,  well,  you  can  laugh,  but  I  think  it's  pretty 
fine,  and  so  does  Ted,"  added  Hope,  with  the  air 
of  one  who  propounds  a  final  argument. 

"Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,"  laughed  Alice.  "If 
Ted  approves  we  must  all  go  down  and  worship." 

119 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"And  father,  too,"  continued  Hope.  "He  said 
he  thought  Mr.  Clay  was  one  of  the  most  re 
markable  men  for  his  years  that  he  had  ever 
met." 

Miss  Langham's  eyes  were  hidden  by  the  masses 
of  her  black  hair  that  she  had  shaken  over  her 
face,  and  she  said  nothing. 

"And  I  liked  the  way  he  shut  Reggie  King  up 
too,"  continued  Hope,  stoutly,  "when  he  and  fa 
ther  were  talking  that  way  about  Madame  Al 
varez." 

"Yes,  upon  my  word,"  exclaimed  her  sister,  im 
patiently  tossing  her  hair  back  over  her  shoulders. 
"I  really  cannot  see  that  Madame  Alvarez  is  in 
need  of  any  champion.  I  thought  Mr.  Clay  made 
it  very  much  worse  by  rushing  in  the  way  he  did. 
Why  should  he  take  it  upon  himself  to  correct  a 
man  as  old  as  my  father?" 

"I  suppose  because  Madame  Alvarez  is  a  friend 
of  his,"  Hope  answered. 

"My  dear  child,  a  beautiful  woman  can  always 
find  some  man  to  take  her  part,"  said  Miss  Lang- 
ham.  "But  I've  no  doubt,"  she  added,  rising  and 
kissing  her  sister  good-night,  "that  he  is  all  that 
your  Captain  Stuart  thinks  him;  but  he  is  not 
going  to  keep  us  awake  any  longer,  is  he,  even 
if  he  does  show  such  gallant  interest  in  old  la 
dies?" 

120 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"Old  ladies!"  exclaimed  Hope  in  amazement. 
"Why,  Alice!" 

But  her  sister  only  laughed  and  waved  her  out 
of  the  room,  and  Hope  walked  away  frowning 
in  much  perplexity. 


122 


THE  visit  to  the  city  was  imitated  on  the 
three  succeeding  evenings  by  similar  excur 
sions.  On  one  night  they  returned  to  the  plaza, 
and  the  other  two  were  spent  in  drifting  down  the 
harbor  and  along  the  coast  on  King's  yacht.  The 
President  and  Madame  Alvarez  were  King's  guests 
on  one  of  these  moonlight  excursions,  and  were 
saluted  by  the  proper  number  of  guns,  and  their 
native  band  played  on  the  forward  deck.  Clay 
felt  that  King  held  the  centre  of  the  stage  for  the 
time  being,  and  obliterated  himself  completely. 
He  thought  of  his  own  paddle-wheel  tug-boat  that 
he  had  had  painted  and  gilded  in  her  honor,  and 
smiled  grimly. 

MacWilliams  approached  him  as  he  sat  leaning 
back  on  the  rail  and  looking  up,  with  the  eye  of 
a  man  who  had  served  before  the  mast,  at  the  lace- 
work  of  spars  and  rigging  above  him.  MacWil 
liams  came  toward  him  on  tiptoe  and  dropped 
carefully  into  a  wicker  chair.  "There  don't  seem 
to  be  any  door-mats  on  this  boat,"  he  said.  "In 
every  other  respect  she  seems  fitted  out  quite  com- 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

plete ;  all  the  latest  magazines  and  enamelled  bath 
tubs,  and  Chinese  waiter-boys  with  cock-tails  up 
their  sleeves.  But  there  ought  to  be  a  mat  at  the 
top  of  each  of  those  stairways  that  hang  over  the 
side,  otherwise  some  one  is  sure  to  soil  the  deck. 
Have  you  been  down  in  the  engine-room  yet?"  he 
asked.  "Well,  don't  go,  then,"  he  advised,  sol 
emnly.  "It  will  only  make  you  feel  badly.  I  have 
asked  the  Admiral  if  I  can  send  those  half-breed 
engine  drivers  over  to-morrow  to  show  them  what 
a  clean  engine-room  looks  like.  I've  just  been 
talking  to  the  chief.  His  name's  MacKenzie,  and 
I  told  him  I  was  Scotch  myself,  and  he  said  it 
'was  a  greet  pleesure'  to  find  a  gentleman  so  well 
acquainted  with  the  movements  of  machinery.  He 
thought  I  was  one  of  King's  friends,  I  guess,  so 
I  didn't  tell  him  I  pulled  a  lever  for  a  living 
myself.  I  gave  him  a  cigar  though,  and  he  said, 
'Thankee,  sir,'  and  touched  his  cap  to  me." 

MacWilliams  chuckled  at  the  recollection,  and 
crossed  his  legs  comfortably.  "One  of  King's 
cigars,  too,"  he  said.  "Real  Havana;  he  leaves 
them  lying  around  loose  in  the  cabin.  Have  you 
had  one?  Ted  Langham  and  I  took  about  a  box 
between  us." 

Clay  made  no  answer,  and  MacWilliams  settled 
himself  contentedly  in  the  great  wicker  chair  and 
puffed  grandly  on  a  huge  cigar. 

123 


Soldiers  oi  Fortune 

"It's  demoralizing,  isn't  it?"  he  said  at  last. 

"What?"  asked  Clay,  absently. 

"Oh,  this  associating  with  white  people  again, 
as  we're  doing  now.  It  spoils  you  for  tortillas 
and  rice,  doesn't  it?  It's  going  to  be  great  fun 
while  it  lasts,  but  when  they've  all  gone,  and  Ted's 
gone,  too,  and  the  yacht's  vanished,  and  we  fall 
back  to  tramping  around  the  plaza  twice  a  week, 
it  won't  be  gay,  will  it?  No;  it  won't  be  gay, 
We're  having  the  spree  of  our  lives  now,  I  guess, 
but  there's  going  to  be  a  difference  in  the  morn- 
ing." 

"Oh,  it's  worth  a  headache,  I  think,"  said  Clay, 
as  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  walked  away  to 
find  Miss  Langham. 

The  day  set  for  the  visit  to  the  mines  rose  bright 
and  clear.  MacWilliams  had  rigged  out  his  sin 
gle  passenger-car  with  rugs  and  cushions,  and  flags 
flew  from  its  canvas  top  that  flapped  and  billowed 
in  the  wind  of  the  slow-moving  train.  Their  ob 
servation-car,  as  MacWilliams  termed  it,  was 
placed  in  front  of  the  locomotive,  and  they  were 
pushed  gently  along  the  narrow  rails  between  for 
ests  of  Manaca  palms,  and  through  swamps  and 
jungles,  and  at  times  over  the  limestone  formation 
along  the  coast,  where  the  waves  dashed  as  high 
as  the  smokestack  of  the  locomotive,  covering  the 
excursionists  with  a  sprinkling  of  white  spray. 

124 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

Thousands  of  land-crabs,  painted  red  and  black 
and  yellow,  scrambled  with  a  rattle  like  dead  men's 
bones  across  the  rails  to  be  crushed  by  the  hun 
dreds  under  the  wheels  of  the  Juggernaut;  great 
lizards  ran  from  sunny  rocks  at  the  sound  of  their 
approach,  and  a  deer  bounded  across  the  tracks 
fifty  feet  in  front  of  the  cow-catcher.  MacWil- 
liams  escorted  Hope  out  into  the  cab  of  the  loco 
motive,  and  taught  her  how  to  increase  and  slack 
en  the  speed  of  the  engine,  until  she  showed  an 
unruly  desire  to  throw  the  lever  open  altogether 
and  shoot  them  off  the  rails  into  the  ocean  be 
yond. 

Clay  sat  at  the  back  of  the  car  with  Miss  Lang- 
ham,  and  told  her  and  her  father  of  the  difficulties 
with  which  young  MacWilliams  had  had  to  con 
tend.  Miss  Langham  found  her  chief  pleasure 
in  noting  the  attention  which  her  father  gave  to 
all  that  Clay  had  to  tell  him.  Knowing  her  father 
as  she  did,  and  being  familiar  with  his  manner 
toward  other  men,  she  knew  that  he  was  treating 
Clay  with  unusual  consideration.  And  this  pleased 
her  greatly,  for  it  justified  her  own  interest  in  him. 
She  regarded  Clay  as  a  discovery  of  her  own,  but 
she  was  glad  to  have  her  opinion  of  him  shared 
by  others. 

Their  coming  was  a  great  event  in  the  history 
of  the  mines.  Kirkland,  the  foreman,  and  Chap- 

125 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

man,  who  handled  the  dynamite,  Welmer,  the 
Consul,  and  the  native  doctor,  who  cared  for  the 
fever-stricken  and  the  casualties,  were  all  at  the 
station  to  meet  them  in  the  whitest  of  white  duck 
and  with  a  bunch  of  ponies  to  carry  them  on  their 
tour  of  inspection,  and  the  village  of  mud-cabins 
and  zinc-huts  that  stood  clear  of  the  bare  sun 
baked  earth  on  whitewashed  wooden  piles  was  as 
clean  as  Clay's  hundred  policemen  could  sweep  it. 
Mr.  Langham  rode  in  advance  of  the  cavalcade, 
and  the  head  of  each  of  the  different  departments 
took  his  turn  in  riding  at  his  side,  and  explained 
what  had  been  done,  and  showed  him  the  proud 
result.  The  village  was  empty,  except  for  the 
families  of  the  native  workmen  and  the  ownerless 
dogs,  the  scavengers  of  the  colony,  that  snarled 
and  barked  and  ran  leaping  in  front  of  the  ponies' 
heads. 

Rising  abruptly  above  the  zinc  village,  lay  the 
first  of  the  five  great  hills,  with  its  open  front  cut 
into  great  terraces,  on  which  the  men  clung  like 
flies  on  the  side  of  a  wall,  some  of  them  in  groups 
around  an  opening,  or  in  couples  pounding  a  steel 
bar  that  a  fellow-workman  turned  in  his  bare 
hands,  while  others  gathered  about  the  panting 
steam-drills  that  shook  the  solid  rock  with  fierce, 
short  blows,  and  hid  the  men  about  them  in  a 
throbbing  curtain  of  steam.  Self-important  little 

126 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

dummy-engines,  dragging  long  trains  of  ore-cars, 
rolled  and  rocked  on  the  uneven  surface  of  the 
ground,  and  swung  around  corners  with  warning 
screeches  of  their  whistles.  They  could  see,  on 
peaks  outlined  against  the  sky,  the  signal-men  wav 
ing  their  red  flags,  and  then  plunging  down  the 
mountain-side  out  of  danger,  as  the  earth  rumbled 
and  shook  and  vomited  out  a  shower  of  stones 
and  rubbish  into  the  calm  hot  air.  It  was  a  spec 
tacle  of  desperate  activity  and  puzzling  to  the  un 
initiated,  for  it  seemed  to  be  scattered  over  an 
unlimited  extent,  with  no  head  nor  direction,  and 
with  each  man,  or  each  group  of  men,  working 
alone,  like  rag-pickers  on  a  heap  of  ashes. 

After  the  first  half-hour  of  curious  interest  Miss 
Langham  admitted  to  herself  that  she  was  disap 
pointed.  She  confessed  she  had  hoped  that  Clay 
would  explain  the  meaning  of  the  mines  to  her, 
and  act  as  her  escort  over  the  mountains  which 
he  was  blowing  into  pieces. 

But  it  was  King,  somewhat  bored  by  the  cease 
less  noise  and  heat,  and  her  brother,  incoherently 
enthusiastic,  who  rode  at  her  side,  while  Clay 
moved  on  in  advance  and  seemed  to  have  forgotten 
her  existence.  She  watched  him  pointing  up  at 
the  openings  in  the  mountains  and  down  at  the 
ore-road,  or  stooping  to  pick  up  a  piece  of  ore 
from  the  ground  in  cowboy  fashion,  without  leav- 

127 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

ing  his  saddle,  and  pounding  it  on  the  pommel 
before  he  passed  it  to  the  others.  And,  again,  he 
would  stand  for  minutes  at  a  time  up  to  his  boot- 
tops  in  the  sliding  waste,  with  his  bridle  rein  over 
his  arm  and  his  thumbs  in  his  belt,  listening  to 
what  his  lieutenants  were  saying,  and  glancing 
quickly  from  them  to  Mr.  Langham  to  see  if  he 
were  following  the  technicalities  of  their  speech. 
All  of  the  men  who  had  welcomed  the  appearance 
of  the  women  on  their  arrival  with  such  obvious 
delight  and  with  so  much  embarrassment  seemed 
now  as  oblivious  of  their  presence  as  Clay  him 
self. 

Miss  Langham  pushed  her  horse  up  into  the 
group  beside  Hope,  who  had  kept  her  pony  close 
at  Clay's  side  from  the  beginning;  but  she  could 
not  make  out  what  it  was  they  were  saying,  and 
no  one  seemed  to  think  it  necessary  to  explain. 
She  caught  Clay's  eye  at  last  and  smiled  brightly 
at  him;  but,  after  staring  at  her  for  fully  a  minute, 
until  Kirkland  had  finished  speaking,  she  heard 
him  say,  "Yes,  that's  it  exactly;  in  open-face  work 
ings  there  is  no  other  way,"  and  so  showed  her 
that  he  had  not  been  even  conscious  of  her  pres 
ence.  But  a  few  minutes  later  she  saw  him  look 
up  at  Hope,  folding  his  arms  across  his  chest 
tightly  and  shaking  his  head.  "You  see  it  was  the 
only  thing  to  do,"  she  heard  him  say,  as  though 

128 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

he  were  defending  some  course  of  action,  and  as 
though  Hope  were  one  of  those  who  must  be  con 
vinced.  "If  we  had  cut  the  opening  on  the  first 
level,  there  was  the  danger  of  the  whole  thing 
sinking  in,  so  we  had  to  begin  to  clear  away  at 
the  top  and  work  down.  That's  why  I  ordered 
the  bucket-trolley.  As  it  turned  out,  we  saved 
money  by  it." 

Hope  nodded  her  head  slightly.  "That's  what 
I  told  father  when  Ted  wrote  us  about  it,"  she 
said;  "but  you  haven't  done  it  at  Mount  Wash 
ington." 

"Oh,  but  it's  like  this,  Miss — "  Kirkland  re 
plied,  eagerly.  "It's  because  Washington  is  a  sol- 
ider  foundation.  We  can  cut  openings  all  over 
it  and  they  won't  cave,  but  this  hill  is  most  all 
rubbish;  it's  the  poorest  stuff  in  the  mines." 

Hope  nodded  her  head  again  and  crowded  her 
pony  on  after  the  moving  group,  but  her  sister 
and  King  did  not  follow.  King  looked  at  her 
and  smiled.  "Hope  is  very  enthusiastic,"  he  said. 
"Where  did  she  pick  it  up?" 

"Oh,  she  and  father  used  to  go  over  it  in  his 
study  last  winter  after  Ted  came  down  here," 
Miss  Langham  answered,  with  a  touch  of  impa 
tience  in  her  tone.  "Isn't  there  some  place  where 
we  can  go  to  get  out  of  this  heat?" 

Weimer,  the  Consul,  heard  her  and  led  her  back 
129 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

to  Kirkland's  bungalow,  that  hung  like  an  eagle's 
nest  from  a  projecting  cliff.  From  its  porch  they 
could  look  down  the  valley  over  the  greater  part 
of  the  mines,  and  beyond  to  where  the  Caribbean 
Sea  lay  flashing  in  the  heat. 

"I  saw  very  few  Americans  down  there,  Wei- 
mer,"  said  King.  "I  thought  Clay  had  imported 
a  lot  of  them." 

"About  three  hundred  altogether,  wild  Irish 
men  and  negroes,"  said  the  Consul;  "but  we  use 
the  native  soldiers  chiefly.  They  can  stand  the 
climate  better,  and,  besides,"  he  added,  "they  act 
as  a  reserve  in  case  of  trouble.  They  are  Men- 
doza's  men,  and  Clay  is  trying  to  win  them  away 
from  him." 

"I  don't  understand,"  said  King. 

Weimer  looked  around  him  and  waited  until 
Kirkland's  servant  had  deposited  a  tray  full  of 
bottles  and  glasses  on  a  table  near  them,  and  had 
departed.  "The  talk  is,"  he  said,  "that  Alvarez 
means  to  proclaim  a  dictatorship  in  his  own  favor 
before  the  spring  elections.  You've  heard  of  that, 
haven't  you?"  King  shook  his  head. 

"Oh,  tell  us  about  it,"  said  Miss  Langham;  "I 
should  so  like  to  be  in  plots  and  conspiracies." 

"Well,  they're  rather  common  down  here,"  con 
tinued  the  Consul,  "but  this  one  ought  to  interest 
you  especially,  Miss  Langham,  because  it  is  a 

130 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

woman  who  is  at  the  head  of  it.  Madame  Al 
varez,  you  know,  was  the  Countess  Manueleta 
Hernandez  before  her  marriage.  She  belongs  to 
one  of  the  oldest  families  in  Spain.  Alvarez  mar 
ried  her  in  Madrid,  when  he  was  Minister  there, 
and  when  he  returned  to  run  for  President,  she 
came  with  him.  She's  a  tremendously  ambitious 
woman,  and  they  do  say  she  wants  to  convert  the 
republic  into  a  monarchy,  and  make  her  husband 
King,  or,  more  properly  speaking,  make  herself 
Queen.  Of  course  that's  absurd,  but  she  is  sup 
posed  to  be  plotting  to  turn  Olancho  into  a  sort 
of  dependency  of  Spain,  as  it  was  long  ago,  and 
that's  why  she  is  so  unpopular." 

"Indeed?"  interrupted  Miss  Langham,  "I  did 
not  know  that  she  was  unpopular." 

"Oh,  rather.  Why,  her  party  is  called  the  Roy 
alist  Party  already,  and  only  a  week  before  you 
came  the  Liberals  plastered  the  city  with  denun 
ciatory  placards  against  her,  calling  on  the  people 
to  drive  her  out  of  the  country." 

"What  cowards — to  fight  a  woman!"  exclaimed 
Miss  Langham. 

"Well,  she  began  it  first,  you  see,"  said  the 
Consul. 

"Who  is  the  leader  of  the  fight  against  her?" 
asked  King. 

"General  Mendoza;  he  is  commander-in-chief 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

and  has  the  greater  part  of  the  army  with  him, 
but  the  other  candidate,  old  General  Rojas,  is  the 
popular  choice  and  the  best  of  the  three.  He  is 
Vice-President  now,  and  if  the  people  were  ever 
given  a  fair  chance  to  vote  for  the  man  they  want, 
he  would  unquestionably  be  the  next  President. 
The  mass  of  the  people  are  sick  of  revolutions. 
They've  had  enough  of  them,  but  they  will  have 
to  go  through  another  before  long,  and  if  it  turns 
against  Dr.  Alvarez,  I'm  afraid  Mr.  Langham 
will  have  hard  work  to  hold  these  mines.  You 
see,  Mendoza  has  already  threatened  to  seize  the 
whole  plant  and  turn  it  into  a  Government  mo' 
nopoly." 

"And  if  the  other  one,  General  Rojas,  gets  into 
power,  will  he  seize  the  mines,  too?" 

"No,  he  is  honest,  strange  to  relate,"  laughed 
Weimer,  "but  he  won't  get  in.  Alvarez  will  make 
himself  dictator,  or  Mendoza  will  make  himself 
President.  That's  why  Clay  treats  the  soldiers 
here  so  well.  He  thinks  he  may  need  them  against 
Mendoza.  You  may  be  turning  your  saluting-gun 
on  the  city  yet,  Commodore,"  he  added,  smiling, 
"or,  what  is  more  likely,  you'll  need  the  yacht  to 
take  Miss  Langham  and  the  rest  of  the  family 
out  of  the  country." 

King  smiled  and  Miss  Langham  regarded  Wei 
mer  with  flattering  interest.  "I've  got  a  quick- 

132 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

firing  gun  below  decks,"  said  King,  "that  I  used 
in  the  Malaysian  Peninsula  on  a  junkful  of  Black 
Flags,  and  I  think  I'll  have  it  brought  up.  And 
there  are  about  thirty  of  my  men  on  the  yacht 
who  wouldn't  ask  for  their  wages  in  a  year  if  I'd 
let  them  go  on  shore  and  mix  up  in  a  fight.  When 
do  you  suppose  this — " 

A  heavy  step  and  the  jingle  of  spurs  on  the  bare 
floor  of  the  bungalow  startled  the  conspirators, 
and  they  turned  and  gazed  guiltily  out  at  the 
mountain-tops  above  them  as  Clay  came  hurrying 
out  upon  the  porch. 

"They  told  me  you  were  here,"  he  said,  speak 
ing  to  Miss  Langham.  "I'm  so  sorry  it  tired  you. 
I  should  have  remembered — it  is  a  rough  trip 
when  you're  not  used  to  it,"  he  added,  remorse 
fully.  "But  I'm  glad  Weimer  was  here  to  take 
care  of  you." 

"It  was  just  a  trifle  hot  and  noisy,"  said  Miss 
Langham,  smiling  sweetly.  She  put  her  hand  to 
her  forehead  with  an  expression  of  patient  suffer 
ing.  "It  made  my  head  ache  a  little,  but  it  was 
most  interesting."  She  added,  "You  are  certainly 
to  be  congratulated  on  your  work." 

Clay  glanced  at  her  doubtfully  with  a  troubled 
look,  and  turned  away  his  eyes  to  the  busy  scene 
below  him.  He  was  greatly  hurt  that  she  should 
have  cared  so  little,  and  indignant  at  himself  for 

133 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

being  so  unjust.  Why  should  he  expect  a  woman 
to  find  interest  in  that  hive  of  noise  and  sweating 
energy?  But  even  as  he  stood  arguing  with  him 
self  his  eyes  fell  on  a  slight  figure  sitting  erect 
and  graceful  on  her  pony's  back,  her  white  habit 
soiled  and  stained  red  with  the  ore  of  the  mines, 
and  green  where  it  had  crushed  against  the  leaves. 
She  was  coming  slowly  up  the  trail  with  a  body 
guard  of  half  a  dozen  men  crowding  closely  around 
her,  telling  her  the  difficulties  of  the  work,  and 
explaining  their  successes,  and  eager  for  a  share 
of  her  quick  sympathy. 

Clay's  eyes  fixed  themselves  on  the  picture,  and 
he  smiled  at  its  significance.  Miss  Langham  no 
ticed  the  look,  and  glanced  below  to  see  what  it 
was  that  had  so  interested  him,  and  then  back  at 
him  again.  He  was  still  watching  the  approach 
ing  cavalcade  intently,  and  smiling  to  himself. 
Miss  Langham  drew  in  her  breath  and  raised  her 
head  and  shoulders  quickly,  like  a  deer  that  hears 
a  footstep  in  the  forest,  and  when  Hope  presently 
stepped  out  upon  the  porch,  she  turned  quickly 
toward  her,  and  regarded  her  steadily,  as  though 
she  were  a  stranger  to  her,  and  as  though  she 
were  trying  to  see  her  with  the  eyes  of  one  who 
looked  at  her  for  the  first  time. 

"Hope!"  she  said,  "do  look  at  your  dress!" 
Hope's  face  was  glowing  with  the  unusual  ex- 
134 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

ercise,  and  her  eyes  were  brilliant.  Her  hair  had 
slipped  down  beneath  the  visor  of  her  helmet. 

"I  am  so  tired — and  so  hungry."  She  was 
laughing  and  looking  directly  at  Clay.  "It  has 
been  a  wonderful  thing  to  have  seen,"  she  said, 
tugging  at  her  heavy  gauntlet,  "and  to  have  done," 
she  added.  She  pulled  off  her  glove  and  held  out 
her  hand  to  Clay,  moist  and  scarred  with  the 
pressure  of  the  reins. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said,  simply. 

The  master  of  the  mines  took  it  with  a  quick 
rush  of  gratitude,  and  looking  into  the  girl's  eyes, 
saw  something  there  that  startled  him,  so  that  he 
glanced  quickly  past  her  at  the  circle  of  booted 
men  grouped  in  the  door  behind  her.  They  were 
each  smiling  in  appreciation  of  the  tableau;  her 
father  and  Ted,  MacWilliams  and  Kirkland,  and 
all  the  others  who  had  helped  him.  They  seemed 
to  envy,  but  not  to  grudge,  the  whole  credit  which 
the  girl  had  given  to  him. 

Clay  thought,  "Why  could  it  not  have  been  the 
other?"  But  he  said  aloud,  "Thank  you.  You 
have  given  me  my  reward." 

Miss  Langham  looked  down  impatiently  into 
the  valley  below,  and  found  that  it  seemed  more 
hot  and  noisy,  and  more  grimy  than  before. 


135 


VI 


LAY  believed  that  Alice  Langham's  visit  to 
the  mines  had  opened  his  eyes  fully  to  vast 
differences  between  them.  He  laughed  and  railed 
at  himself  for  having  dared  to  imagine  that  he 
was  in  a  position  to  care  for  her.  Confident  as 
he  was  at  times,  and  sure  as  he  was  of  his  ability 
in  certain  directions,  he  was  uneasy  and  fearful 
when  he  matched  himself  against  a  man  of  gentle 
birth  and  gentle  breeding,  and  one  who,  like  King, 
was  part  of  a  world  of  which  he  knew  little,  and  to 
which,  in  his  ignorance  concerning  it,  he  attributed 
many  advantages  that  it  did  not  possess.  He  be 
lieved  that  he  would  always  lack  the  mysterious 
something  which  these  others  held  by  right  of  in 
heritance.  He  was  still  young  and  full  of  the  illu 
sions  of  youth,  and  so  gave  false  values  to  his  own 
qualities,  and  values  equally  false  to  the  qualities  he 
lacked.  For  the  next  week  he  avoided  Miss  Lang- 
ham,  unless  there  were  other  people  present,  and 
whenever  she  showed  him  special  favor,  he  hastily 
recalled  to  his  mind  her  failure  to  sympathize  in 
his  work,  and  assured  himself  that  if  she  could 
not  interest  herself  in  the  engineer,  he  did  not 

136 


Soldiers  ot  Fortune 

care  to  have  her  Interested  in  the  man.  Other 
women  had  found  him  attractive  in  himself;  they 
had  cared  for  his  strength  of  will  and  mind,  and 
because  he  was  good  to  look  at.  But  he  deter 
mined  that  this  one  must  sympathize  with  his  work 
in  the  world,  no  matter  how  unpicturesque  it  might 
seem  to  her.  His  work  was  the  best  of  him,  he 
assured  himself,  and  he  would  stand  or  fall  with  it. 

It  was  a  week  after  the  visit  to  the  mines  that 
President  Alvarez  gave  a  great  ball  in  honor  of 
the  Langhams,  to  which  all  of  the  important  peo 
ple  of  Olancho,  and  the  Foreign  Ministers  were 
invited.  Miss  Langham  met  Clay  on  the  after 
noon  of  the  day  set  for  the  ball,  as  she  was  going 
down  the  hill  to  join  Hope  and  her  father  at  din 
ner  on  the  yacht. 

"Are  you  not  coming,  too?"  she  asked. 

"I  wish  I  could,"  Clay  answered.  "King  asked 
me,  but  a  steamer-load  of  new  machinery  arrived 
to-day,  and  I  have  to  see  it  through  the  Custom- 
House." 

Miss  Langham  gave  an  impatient  little  laugh, 
and  shook  her  head.  "You  might  wait  until  we 
were  gone  before  you  bother  with  your  machin 
ery,"  she  said. 

"When  you  are  gone  I  won't  be  in  a  state  of 
mind  to  attend  to  machinery  or  anything  else," 
Clay  answered. 

137 


Soldiers  of   Fortune 

Miss  Langham  seemed  so  far  encouraged  by 
this  speech  that  she  seated  herself  in  the  boat- 
house  at  the  end  of  the  wharf.  She  pushed  her 
mantilla  back  from  her  face  and  looked  up  at  him, 
smiling  brightly. 

"  'The  time  has  come,  the  walrus  said,'  "  she 
quoted,  "  'to  talk  of  many  things.'  ' 

Clay  laughed  and  dropped  down  beside  her. 
"Well?"  he  said. 

"You  have  been  rather  unkind  to  me  this  last 
week,"  the  girl  began,  with  her  eyes  fixed  stead 
ily  on  his.  "And  that  day  at  the  mines  when  I 
counted  on  you  so,  you  acted  abominably." 

Clay's  face  showed  so  plainly  his  surprise  at 
this  charge,  which  he  thought  he  only  had  the 
right  to  make,  that  Miss  Langham  stopped. 

"I  don't  understand,"  said  Clay,  quietly.  "How 
did  I  treat  you  abominably?" 

He  had  taken  her  so  seriously  that  Miss  Lang- 
ham  dropped  her  lighter  tone  and  spoke  in  one 
more  kindly : 

"I  went  out  there  to  see  your  work  at  its  best. 
I  was  only  interested  in  going  because  it  was  your 
work,  and  because  it  was  you  who  had  done  it  all, 
and  I  expected  that  you  would  try  to  explain  it 
to  me  and  help  me  to  understand,  but  you  didn't. 
You  treated  me  as  though  I  had  no  interest  in  the 
matter  at  all,  as  though  I  was  not  capable  of  un- 

138 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

derstanding  it.  You  did  not  seem  to  care  whether 
I  was  interested  or  not.  In  fact,  you  forgot  me 
altogether." 

Clay  exhibited  no  evidence  of  a  reproving  con 
science.  "I  am  sorry  you  had  a  stupid  time,"  he 
said,  gravely. 

"I  did  not  mean  that,  and  you  know  I  didn't 
mean  that,"  the  girl  answered.  "I  wanted  to  hear 
about  it  from  you,  because  you  did  it.  I  wasn't 
interested  so  much  in  what  had  been  done,  as  I 
was  in  the  man  who  had  accomplished  it." 

Clay  shrugged  his  shoulders  impatiently,  and 
looked  across  at  Miss  Langham  with  a  troubled 
smile. 

"But  that's  just  what  I  don't  want,"  he  said. 
"Can't  you  see?  These  mines  and  other  mines 
like  them  are  all  I  have  in  the  world.  They  are 
my  only  excuse  for  having  lived  in  It  so  long. 
I  want  to  feel  that  I've  done  something  outside 
of  myself,  and  when  you  say  that  you  like  me 
personally,  it's  as  little  satisfaction  to  me  as  it 
must  be  to  a  woman  to  be  congratulated  on  her 
beauty,  or  on  her  fine  voice.  That  is  nothing  she 
has  done  herself.  I  should  like  you  to  value  what 
I  have  done,  not  what  I  happen  to  be." 

Miss  Langham  turned  her  eyes  to  the  harbor, 
and  it  was  some  short  time  before  she  answered. 

"You  are  a  very  difficult  person  to  please,"  she 
139 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

said,  "and  most  exacting.  As  a  rule  men  are  sat 
isfied  to  be  liked  for  any  reason.  I  confess  frank 
ly,  since  you  insist  upon  it,  that  I  do  not  rise  to 
the  point  of  appreciating  your  work  as  the  others 
do.  I  suppose  it  is  a  fault,"  she  continued,  with 
an  air  that  plainly  said  that  she  considered  it,  on 
the  contrary,  something  of  a  virtue.  "And  if  I 
knew  more  about  it  technically,  I  might  see  more 
in  it  to  admire.  But  I  am  looking  farther  on 
for  better  things  from  you.  The  friends  who  help 
us  the  most  are  not  always  those  who  consider  us 
perfect,  are  they?"  she  asked,  with  a  kindly  smile. 
She  raised  her  eyes  to  the  great  ore-pier  that 
stretched  out  across  the  water,  the  one  ugly  blot 
in  the  scene  of  natural  beauty  about  them.  "I 
think  that  is  all  very  well,"  she  said;  "but  I  cer 
tainly  expect  you  to  do  more  than  that.  I  have 
met  many  remarkable  men  in  all  parts  of  the 
world,  and  I  know  what  a  strong  man  is,  and 
you  have  one  of  the  strongest  personalities  I  have 
known.  But  you  can't  mean  that  you  are  content 
to  stop  with  this.  You  should  be  something  big 
ger  and  more  wide-reaching  and  more  lasting.  In 
deed,  it  hurts  me  to  see  you  wasting  your  time  here 
over  my  father's  interests.  You  should  exert  that 
same  energy  on  a  broader  map.  You  could  make 
yourself  anything  you  chose.  At  home  you  would 
be  your  party's  leader  in  politics,  or  you  could  be 

140 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

a  great  general,  or  a  great  financier.  I  say  this 
because  I  know  there  are  better  things  in  you,  and 
because  I  want  you  to  make  the  most  of  your 
talents.  I  am  anxious  to  see  you  put  your  powers 
to  something  worth  while." 

Miss  Langham's  voice  carried  with  it  such  a 
tone  of  sincerity  that  she  almost  succeeded  in  de 
ceiving  herself.  And  yet  she  would  have  hardly 
cared  to  explain  just  why  she  had  reproached  the 
man  before  her  after  this  fashion.  For  she  knew 
that  when  she  spoke  as  she  had  done,  she  was 
beating  about  to  find  some  reason  that  would  jus 
tify  her  in  not  caring  for  him,  as  she  knew  she 
could  care — as  she  would  not  allow  herself  to  care. 
The  man  at  her  side  had  won  her  interest  from 
the  first,  and  later  had  occupied  her  thoughts  so 
entirely,  that  it  troubled  her  peace  of  mind.  Yet 
she  would  not  let  her  feeling  for  him  wax  and 
grow  stronger,  but  kept  it  down.  And  she  was 
trying  now  to  persuade  herself  that  she  did  this 
because  there  was  something  lacking  in  him  and 
not  in  her. 

She  was  almost  angry  with  him  for  being  so 
much  to  her  and  for  not  being  more  acceptable 
in  little  things,  like  the  other  men  she  knew.  So 
she  found  this  fault  with  him  in  order  that  she 
might  justify  her  own  lack  of  feeling. 

But  Clay,  who  only  heard  the  words  and  could 
141 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

not  go  back  of  them  to  find  the  motive,  could  not 
know  this.  He  sat  perfectly  still  when  she  had 
finished  and  looked  steadily  out  across  the  harbor. 
His  eyes  fell  on  the  ugly  ore-pier,  and  he  winced 
and  uttered  a  short  grim  laugh. 

"That's  true,  what  you  say,"  he  began,  "I 
haven't  done  much.  You  are  quite  right.  Only — " 
he  looked  up  at  her  curiously  and  smiled — "only 
you  should  not  have  been  the  one  to  tell  me  of  it." 

Miss  Langham  had  been  so  far  carried  away 
by  her  own  point  of  view  that  she  had  not  con 
sidered  Clay,  and  now  that  she  saw  what  mischief 
she  had  done,  she  gave  a  quick  gasp  of  regret, 
and  leaned  forward  as  though  to  add  some  ex 
planation  to  what  she  had  said.  But  Clay  stopped 
her.  "I  mean  by  that,"  he  said,  "that  the  great 
part  of  the  inspiration  I  have  had  to  do  what  little 
I  have  done  came  from  you.  You  were  a  sort  of 
promise  of  something  better  to  me.  You  were 
more  of  a  type  than  an  individual  woman,  but  your 
picture,  the  one  I  carry  in  my  watch,  meant  all 
that  part  of  life  that  I  have  never  known,  the 
sweetness  and  the  nobleness  and  grace  of  civil 
ization, — something  I  hoped  I  would  some  day 
have  time  to  enjoy.  So  you  see,"  he  added,  with 
an  uncertain  laugh,  "it's  less  pleasant  to  hear  that 
I  have  failed  to  make  the  most  of  myself  from 
you  than  from  almost  any  one  else." 

142 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"But,  Mr.  Clay,"  protested  the  girl,  anxiously, 
"I  think  you  have  done  wonderfully  well.  I  only 
said  that  I  wanted  you  to  do  more.  You  are 
so  young  and  you  have — " 

Clay  did  not  hear  her.  He  was  leaning  forward 
looking  moodily  out  across  the  water,  with  his 
folded  arms  clasped  across  his  knees. 

"I  have  not  made  the  most  of  myself,"  he  re 
peated;  "that  is  what  you  said."  He  spoke  the 
words  as  though  she  had  delivered  a  sentence. 
"You  don't  think  well  of  what  I  have  done,  of 
what  I  am." 

He  drew  in  his  breath  and  shook  his  head  with 
a  hopeless  laugh,  and  leaned  back  against  the  rail 
ing  of  the  boat-house  with  the  weariness  in  his 
attitude  of  a  man  who  has  given  up  after  a  long 
struggle. 

"No,"  he  said  with  a  bitter  flippancy  in  his 
voice,  "I  don't  amount  to  much.  But,  my  God!" 
he  laughed,  and  turning  his  head  away,  "when 
you  think  what  I  was !  This  doesn't  seem  much 
to  you,  and  it  doesn't  seem  much  to  me  now  that 
I  have  your  point  of  view  on  it,  but  when  I  re 
member!"  Clay  stopped  again  and  pressed  his 
lips  together  and  shook  his  head.  His  half-closed 
eyes,  that  seemed  to  be  looking  back  into  his  past, 
lighted  as  they  fell  on  King's  white  yacht,  and  he 
raised  his  arm  and  pointed  to  it  with  a  wave  of 

143 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

the  hand.  "When  I  was  sixteen  I  was  a  sailor 
before  the  mast,"  he  said,  "the  sort  of  sailor  that 
King's  crew  out  there  wouldn't  recognize  in  the 
same  profession.  I  was  of  so  little  account  that 
I've  been  knocked  the  length  of  the  main  deck  at 
the  end  of  the  mate's  fist,  and  left  to  lie  bleeding 
in  the  scuppers  for  dead.  I  hadn't  a  thing  to  my 
name  then  but  the  clothes  I  wore,  and  I've  had  to 
go  aloft  in  a  hurricane  and  cling  to  a  swinging 
rope  with  my  bare  toes  and  pull  at  a  wet  sheet 
until  my  finger-nails  broke  and  started  in  their 
sockets;  and  I've  been  a  cowboy,  with  no  com 
panions  for  six  months  of  the  year  but  eight  thou 
sand  head  of  cattle  and  men  as  dumb  and  untamed 
as  the  steers  themselves.  I've  sat  in  my  saddle 
night  after  night,  with  nothing  overhead  but  the 
stars,  and  no  sound  but  the  noise  of  the  steers 
breathing  in  their  sleep.  The  women  I  knew  were 
Indian  squaws,  and  the  girls  of  the  sailors'  dance- 
houses  and  the  gambling-hells  of  Sioux  City  and 
Abilene,  and  Callao  and  Port  Said.  That  was 
what  I  was  and  those  were  my  companions. 
"Why!"  he  laughed,  rising  and  striding  across 
the  boat-house  with  his  hands  locked  behind  him, 
"I've  fought  on  the  mud  floor  of  a  Mexican  shack, 
with  a  naked  knife  in  my  hand,  for  my  last  dol 
lar.  I  was  as  low  and  as  desperate  as  that.  And 
now — "  Clay  lifted  his  head  and  smiled.  "Now," 

144 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

he  said,  In  a  lower  voice  and  addressing  Miss 
Langham  with  a  return  of  his  usual  grave  po 
liteness,  "I  am  able  to  sit  beside  you  and  talk  to 
you.  I  have  risen  to  that.  I  am  quite  content." 

He  paused  and  looked  at  Miss  Langham  un 
certainly  for  a  few  moments  as  though  in  doubt 
as  to  whether  she  would  understand  him  if  he  con 
tinued. 

"And  though  it  means  nothing  to  you,"  he  said, 
"and  though  as  you  say  I  am  here  as  your  father's 
employee,  there  are  other  places,  perhaps,  where 
I  am  better  known.  In  Edinburgh  or  Berlin  or 
Paris,  if  you  were  to  ask  the  people  of  my  own 
profession,  they  could  tell  you  something  of  me. 
If  I  wished  it,  I  could  drop  this  active  work  to 
morrow  and  continue  as  an  adviser,  as  an  expert, 
but  I  like  the  active  part  better.  I  like  doing 
things  myself.  I  don't  say,  'I  am  a  salaried  ser 
vant  of  Mr.  Langham's;'  I  put  it  differently.  I 
say,  'There  are  five  mountains  of  iron.  You  are 
to  take  them  up  and  transport  them  from  South 
America  to  North  America,  where  they  will  be 
turned  into  railroads  and  ironclads.'  That's  my 
way  of  looking  at  it.  It's  better  to  bind  a  laurel 
to  the  plough  than  to  call  yourself  hard  names. 
It  makes  your  work  easier — almost  noble.  Can 
not  you  see  it  that  way,  too?" 

Before  Miss  Langham  could  answer,  a  depre- 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

catory  cough  from  one  side  of  the  open  boat-house 
startled  them,  and  turning  they  saw  MacWilliams 
coming  toward  them.  They  had  been  so  intent 
upon  what  Clay  was  saying  that  he  had  approached 
them  over  the  soft  sand  of  the  beach  without  their 
knowing  it.  Miss  Langham  welcomed  his  arrival 
with  evident  pleasure. 

"The  launch  is  waiting  for  you  at  the  end  of 
the  pier,"  MacWilliams  said.  Miss  Langham 
rose  and  the  three  walked  together  down  the 
length  of  the  wharf,  MacWilliams  moving  brisk 
ly  in  advance  in  order  to  enable  them  to  continue 
the  conversation  he  had  interrupted,  but  they  fol 
lowed  close  behind  him,  as  though  neither  of  them 
were  desirous  of  such  an  opportunity. 

Hope  and  King  had  both  come  for  Miss  Lang- 
ham,  and  while  the  latter  was  helping  her  to  a 
place  on  the  cushions,  and  repeating  his  regrets 
that  the  men  were  not  coming  also,  Hope  started 
the  launch,  with  a  brisk  ringing  of  bells  and  a 
whirl  of  the  wheel  and  a  smile  over  her  shoulder 
at  the  figures  on  the  wharf. 

"Why  didn't  you  go?"  said  Clay;  "you  have 
no  business  at  the  Custom-House." 

"Neither  have  you,"  said  MacWilliams.  "But 
I  guess  we  both  understand.  There's  no  good 
pushing  your  luck  too  far." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that — this  time?" 
146 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"Why,  what  have  we  to  do  with  all  of  this?" 
cried  MacWilliams.  "It's  what  I  keep  telling  you 
every  day.  We're  not  in  that  class,  and  you're 
only  making  it  harder  for  yourself  when  they've 
gone.  I  call  it  cruelty  to  animals  myself,  having 
women  like  that  around.  Up  North,  where  every 
body's  white,  you  don't  notice  it  so  much,  but  down 
here— Lord!" 

"That's  absurd,"  Clay  answered.  "Why  should 
you  turn  your  back  on  civilization  when  it  comes 
to  you,  just  because  you're  not  going  back  to  civil 
ization  by  the  next  steamer?  Every  person  you 
meet  either  helps  you  or  hurts  you.  Those  girls 
help  us,  even  if  they  do  make  the  life  here  seem 
bare  and  mean." 

"Bare  and  mean!"  repeated  MacWilliams  in 
credulously.  "I  think  that's  just  what  they  don't 
do.  I  like  it  all  the  better  because  they're  mixed 
up  in  it.  I  never  took  so  much  interest  in  your 
mines  until  she  took  to  riding  over  them,  and  I 
didn't  think  great  shakes  of  my  old  ore-road, 
either,  but  now  that  she's  got  to  acting  as  engineer, 
it's  sort  of  nickel-plated  the  whole  outfit.  I'm 
going  to  name  the  new  engine  after  her — when 
it  gets  here — if  her  old  man  will  let  me." 

"What  do  you  mean?  Miss  Langham  hasn't 
been  to  the  mines  but  once,  has  she?" 

"Miss  Langham!"  exclaimed  MacWilliams. 
147 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"No,  I  mean  the  other,  Miss  Hope.  She  comes 
out  with  Ted  nearly  every  day  now,  and  she's 
learning  how  to  run  a  locomotive.  Just  for  fun, 
you  know,"  he  added,  reassuringly. 

"I  didn't  suppose  she  had  any  intention  of  join 
ing  the  Brotherhood,"  said  Clay.  "So  she's  been 
out  every  day,  has  she?  I  like  that,"  he  com 
mented,  enthusiastically.  "She's  a  fine,  sweet  girl." 

"Fine,  sweet  girl!"  growled  MacWilliams.  "I 
should  hope  so.  She's  the  best.  They  don't  make 
them  any  better  than  that,  and  just  think,  if  she's 
like  that  now,  what  will  she  be  when  she's  grown 
up,  when  she's  learned  a  few  things?  Now  her 
sister.  You  can  see  just  what  her  sister  will  be 
at  thirty,  and  at  fifty,  and  at  eighty.  She's  thor 
oughbred  and  she's  the  most  beautiful  woman  to 
look  at  I  ever  saw — but,  my  son — she  is  too  care 
ful.  She  hasn't  any  illusions,  and  no  sense  of  hu 
mor.  And  a  woman  with  no  illusions  an'd  no  sense 
of  humor  is  going  to  be  monotonous.  You  can't 
teach  her  anything.  You  can't  imagine  yourself 
telling  her  anything  she  doesn't  know.  The  things 
we  think  important  don't  reach  her  at  all.  They're 
not  in  her  line,  and  in  everything  else  she  knows 
more  than  we  could  ever  guess  at.  But  that  Miss 
Hope !  It's  a  privilege  to  show  her  about.  She 
wants  to  see  everything,  and  learn  everything,  and 
she  goes  poking  her  head  into  openings  and  down 

148 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

shafts  like  a  little  fox  terrier.  And  she'll  sit  still 
and  listen  with  her  eyes  wide  open  and  tears  in 
them,  too,  and  she  doesn't  know  it — until  you  can't 
talk  yourself  for  just  looking  at  her." 

Clay  rose  and  moved  on  to  the  house  in  silence. 
He  was  glad  that  MacWilliams  had  interrupted 
him  when  he  did.  He  wondered  whether  he  un 
derstood  Alice  Langham  after  all.  He  had  seen 
many  fine  ladies  before  during  his  brief  visits  to 
London,  and  Berlin,  and  Vienna,  and  they  had 
shown  him  favor.  He  had  known  other  women 
not  so  fine.  Spanish-American  sefioritas  through 
Central  and  South  America,  the  wives  and  daugh 
ters  of  English  merchants  exiled  along  the  Pacific 
coast,  whose  fair  skin  and  yellow  hair  whitened 
and  bleached  under  the  hot  tropical  suns.  He  had 
known  many  women,  and  he  could  have  quoted 

"Trials  and  troubles  amany, 

Have  proved  me  ; 

One  or  two  women,  God  bless  them  f 
Have  loved  me." 

But  the  woman  he  was  to  marry  must  have  all 
the  things  he  lacked.  She  must  fill  out  and  com 
plete  him  where  he  was  wanting.  This  woman 
possessed  all  of  these  things.  She  appealed  to 
every  ambition  and  to  every  taste  he  cherished, 
and  yet  he  knew  that  he  had  hesitated  and  mis- 

149 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

trusted  her,  when  he  should  have  declared  him 
self  eagerly  and  vehemently,  and  forced  her  to 
listen  with  all  the  strength  of  his  will. 

Miss  Langham  dropped  among  the  soft  cush 
ions  of  the  launch  with  a  sense  of  having  been 
rescued  from  herself  and  of  delight  in  finding 
refuge  again  in  her  own  environment.  The  sight 
of  King  standing  in  the  bow  beside  Hope  with 
his  cigarette  hanging  from  his  lips,  and  peering 
with  half-closed  eyes  into  the  fading  light,  gave 
her  a  sense  of  restfulness  and  content.  She  did 
not  know  what  she  wished  from  that  other  strange 
young  man.  He  was  so  bold,  so  handsome,  and 
he  looked  at  life  and  spoke  of  it  in  such  a  fresh, 
unhackneyed  spirit.  He  might  make  himself  any 
thing  he  pleased.  But  here  was  a  man  who  already 
had  everything,  or  who  could  get  it  as  easily  as  he 
could  increase  the  speed  of  the  launch,  by  pulling 
some  wire  with  his  finger. 

She  recalled  one  day  when  they  were  all  on 
board  of  this  same  launch,  and  the  machinery  had 
broken  down,  and  MacWilliams  had  gone  forward 
to  look  at  it.  He  had  called  Clay  to  help  him, 
and  she  remembered  how  they  had  both  gone 
down  on  their  knees  and  asked  the  engineer  and 
fireman  to  pass  them  wrenches  and  oil-cans,  while 
King  protested  mildly,  and  the  rest  sat  helplessly 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

In  the  hot  glare  of  the  sea,  as  the  boat  rose  and 
fell  on  the  waves.  She  resented  Clay's  interest 
in  the  accident,  and  his  pleasure  when  he  had 
made  the  machinery  right  once  more,  and  his  ap 
pearance  as  he  came  back  to  them  with  oily  hands 
and  with  his  face  glowing  from  the  heat  of  the 
furnace,  wiping  his  grimy  fingers  on  a  piece  of 
packing.  She  had  resented  the  equality  with  which 
he  treated  the  engineer  in  asking  his  advice,  and 
it  rather  surprised  her  that  the  crew  saluted 
him  when  he  stepped  into  the  launch  again  that 
night  as  though  he  were  the  owner.  She  had  ex 
pected  that  they  would  patronize  him,  and  she 
imagined  after  this  incident  that  she  detected  a 
shade  of  difference  in  the  manner  of  the  sailors 
toward  Clay,  as  though  he  had  cheapened  him 
self  to  them — as  he  had  to  her. 


VII 

AT  ten  o'clock  that  same  evening  Clay  began 
to  prepare  himself  for  the  ball  at  the  Gov 
ernment  palace,  and  MacWilliams,  who  was  not 
invited,  watched  him  dress  with  critical  approval 
that  showed  no  sign  of  envy. 

The  better  to  do  honor  to  the  President,  Clay 
had  brought  out  several  foreign  orders,  and  Mac- 
Williams  helped  him  to  tie  around  his  neck  the 
collar  of  the  Red  Eagle  which  the  German  Em 
peror  had  given  him,  and  to  fasten  the  ribbon  and 
cross  of  the  Star  of  Olancho  across  his  breast,  and 
a  Spanish  Order  and  the  Legion  of  Honor  to  the 
lapel  of  his  coat.  MacWilliams  surveyed  the  ef 
fect  of  the  tiny  enamelled  crosses  with  his  head 
on  one  side,  and  with  the  same  air  of  affectionate 
pride  and  concern  that  a  mother  shows  over  her 
daughter's  first  ball-dress. 

"Got  any  more?"  he  asked,  anxiously. 

"I  have  some  war  medals,"  Clay  answered, 
smiling  doubtfully.  "But  I'm  not  in  uniform." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  declared  MacWilliams. 
"Put  'em  on,  put  'em  all  on.  Give  the  girls  a 

152 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

treat.  Everybody  will  think  they  were  given  for 
feats  of  swimming,  anyway;  but  they  will  show 
up  well  from  the  front.  Now,  then,  you  look  like 
a  drum-major  or  a  conjuring  chap." 

"I  do  not,"  said  Clay.  "I  look  like  a  French 
Ambassador,  and  I  hardly  understand  how  you 
find  courage  to  speak  to  me  at  all." 

He  went  up  the  hill  in  high  spirits,  and  found 
the  carriage  at  the  door  and  King,  Mr.  Langham, 
and  Miss  Langham  sitting  waiting  for  him.  They 
were  ready  to  depart,  and  Miss  Langham  had  but 
just  seated  herself  in  the  carriage  when  they  heard 
hurrying  across  the  tiled  floor  a  quick,  light  step 
and  the  rustle  of  silk,  and  turning  they  saw  Hope 
standing  in  the  doorway,  radiant  and  smiling. 
She  wore  a  white  frock  that  reached  to  the  ground, 
and  that  left  her  arms  and  shoulders  bare.  Her 
hair  was  dressed  high  upon  her  head,  and  she  was 
pulling  vigorously  at  a  pair  of  long,  tan-colored 
gloves.  The  transformation  was  so  complete,  and 
the  girl  looked  so  much  older  and  so  stately  and 
beautiful,  that  the  two  young  men  stared  at  her 
in  silent  admiration  and  astonishment. 

"Why,  Hope !"  exclaimed  her  sister.  "What 
does  this  mean?" 

Hope  stopped  in  some  alarm,  and  clasped  her 
hair  with  both  hands.  "What  is  it?"  she  asked; 
"is  anything  wrong?" 

153 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"Why,  my  dear  child,"  said  her  sister,  "you're 
not  thinking  of  going  with  us,  are  you?" 

"Not  going?"  echoed  the  younger  sister,  in  dis 
may.  "Why,  Alice,  why  not?  I  was  asked." 

"But,  Hope—  Father,"  said  the  elder  sister, 
stepping  out  of  the  carriage  and  turning  to  Mr. 
Langham,  "you  didn't  intend  that  Hope  should 
go,  did  you?  She's  not  out  yet." 

"Oh,  nonsense,"  said  Hope,  defiantly.  But  she 
drew  in  her  breath  quickly  and  blushed,  as  she 
saw  the  two  young  men  moving  away  out  of  hear 
ing  of  this  family  crisis.  She  felt  that  she  was 
being  made  to  look  like  a  spoiled  child.  "It 
doesn't  count  down  here,"  she  said,  "and  I  want 
to  go.  I  thought  you  knew  I  was  going  all  the 
time.  Marie  made  this  frock  for  me  on  pur 
pose." 

"I  don't  think  Hope  is  old  enough,"  the  elder 
sister  said,  addressing  her  father,  "and  if  she  goes 
to  dances  here,  there's  no  reason  why  she  should 
not  go  to  those  at  home." 

"But  I  don't  want  to  go  to  dances  at  home," 
interrupted  Hope. 

Mr.  Langham  looked  exceedingly  uncomfort 
able,  and  turned  apppealingly  to  his  elder  daugh 
ter.  "What  do  you  think,  Alice?"  he  said,  doubt 
fully. 

"I'm  sorry,"  Miss  Langham  replied,  "but  I 
154 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

know  it  would  not  be  at  all  proper.  I  hate  to 
seem  horrid  about  it,  Hope,  but  indeed  you  are 
too  young,  and  the  men  here  are  not  the  men  a 
young  girl  ought  to  meet." 

"You  meet  them,  Alice,"  said  Hope,  but  pull 
ing  off  her  gloves  in  token  of  defeat. 

"But,  my  dear  child,  I'm  fifty  years  older  than 
you  are." 

"Perhaps  Alice  knows  best,  Hope,"  Mr.  Lang- 
ham  said.  "I'm  sorry  if  you  are  disappointed." 

Hope  held  her  head  a  little  higher,  and  turned 
toward  the  door. 

"I  don't  mind  if  you  don't  wish  it,  father,"  she 
said.  "Good-night."  She  moved  away,  but  ap 
parently  thought  better  of  it,  and  came  back  and 
stood  smiling  and  nodding  to  them  as  they  seated 
themselves  in  the  carriage.  Mr.  Langham  leaned 
forward  and  said,  in  a  troubled  voice,  "We  will 
tell  you  all  about  it  in  the  morning.  I'm  very 
sorry.  You  won't  be  lonely,  will  you?  I'll  stay 
with  you  if  you  wish." 

"Nonsense!"  laughed  Hope.  "Why,  it's  given 
to  you,  father;  don't  bother  about  me.  I'll  read 
something  or  other  and  go  to  bed." 

"Good-night,  Cinderella,"  King  called  out  to 
her. 

"Good-night,  Prince  Charming,"  Hope  an 
swered. 

155 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

Both  Clay  and  King  felt  that  the  girl  would 
not  mind  missing  the  ball  so  much  as  she  would 
the  fact  of  having  been  treated  like  a  child  in  their 
presence,  so  they  refrained  from  any  expression 
of  sympathy  or  regret,  but  raised  their  hats  and 
bowed  a  little  more  impressively  than  usual  as 
the  carriage  drove  away. 

The  picture  Hope  made,  as  she  stood  deserted 
and  forlorn  on  the  steps  of  the  empty  house  in  her 
new  finery,  struck  Clay  as  unnecessarily  pathetic. 
He  felt  a  strong  sense  of  resentment  against  her 
sister  and  her  father,  and  thanked  heaven  devout 
ly  that  he  was  out  of  their  class,  and  when  Miss 
Langham  continued  to  express  her  sorrow  that 
she  had  been  forced  to  act  as  she  had  done,  he 
remained  silent.  It  seemed  to  Clay  such  a  simple 
thing  to  give  children  pleasure,  and  to  remember 
that  their  woes  were  always  out  of  all  proportion 
to  the  cause.  Children,  dumb  animals,  and  blind 
people  were  always  grouped  together  in  his  mind 
as  objects  demanding  the  most  tender  and  constant 
consideration.  So  the  pleasure  of  the  evening  was 
spoiled  for  him  while  he  remembered  the  hurt  and 
disappointed  look  in  Hope's  face,  and  when  Miss 
Langham  asked  him  why  he  was  so  preoccupied, 
he  told  her  bluntly  that  he  thought  she  had  been 
very  unkind  to  Hope,  and  that  her  objections  were 
absurd. 

156 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

Miss  Langham  held  herself  a  little  more  stiffly. 
"Perhaps  you  do  not  quite  understand,  Mr.  Clay," 
she  said.  "Some  of  us  have  to  conform  to  certain 
rules  that  the  people  with  whom  we  best  like  to 
associate  have  laid  down  for  themselves.  If  we 
choose  to  be  conventional,  it  is  probably  because 
we  find  it  makes  life  easier  for  the  greater  number. 
You  cannot  think  it  was  a  pleasant  task  for  me. 
But  I  have  given  up  things  of  much  more  im 
portance  than  a  dance  for  the  sake  of  appear 
ances,  and  Hope  herself  will  see  to-morrow  that 
I  acted  for  the  best." 

Clay  said  he  trusted  so,  but  doubted  it,  and  by 
way  of  re-establishing  himself  in  Miss  Langham's 
good  favor,  asked  her  if  she  could  give  him  the 
next  dance.  But  Miss  Langham  was  not  to  be 
propitiated. 

"I'm  sorry,"  she  said,  "but  I  believe  I  am  en 
gaged  until  supper-time.  Come  and  ask  me  then, 
and  I'll  have  one  saved  for  you.  But  there  is 
something  you  can  do,"  she  added.  "I  left 
my  fan  in  the  carriage — do  you  think  you  could 
manage  to  get  it  for  me  without  much  trou 
ble?" 

"The  carriage  did  not  wait.  I  believe  it  was 
sent  back,"  said  Clay,  "but  I  can  borrow  a  horse 
from  one  of  Stuart's  men,  and  ride  back  and  get 
it  for  you,  if  you  like." 

157 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"How  absurd!"  laughed  Miss  Langham,  but 
she  looked  pleased,  notwithstanding. 

"Oh,  not  at  all,"  Clay  answered.  He  was 
smiling  down  at  her  in  some  amusement,  and  was 
apparently  much  entertained  at  his  idea.  "Will 
you  consider  it  an  act  of  devotion?"  he  asked. 

There  was  so  little  of  devotion,  and  so  much 
more  of  mischief  in  his  eyes,  that  Miss  Langham 
guessed  he  was  only  laughing  at  her,  and  shook 
her  head. 

"You  won't  go,"  she  said,  turning  away.  She 
followed  him  with  her  eyes,  however,  as  he  crossed 
the  room,  his  head  and  shoulders  towering  above 
the  native  men  and  women.  She  had  never  seen 
him  so  resplendent,  and  she  noted,  with  an  eye 
that  considered  trifles,  the  orders,  and  his  well-fit 
ting  white  gloves,  and  his  manner  of  bowing  in 
the  Continental  fashion,  holding  his  opera-hat  on 
his  thigh,  as  though  his  hand  rested  on  a  sword. 
She  noticed  that  the  little  Olanchoans  stopped  and 
looked  after  him,  as  he  pushed  his  way  among 
them,  and  she  could  see  that  the  men  were  telling 
the  women  who  he  was.  Sir  Julian  Pindar,  the  old 
British  Minister,  stopped  him,  and  she  watched 
them  as  they  laughed  together  over  the  English 
war  medals  on  the  American's  breast,  which  Sir 
Julian  touched  with  his  finger.  He  called  the 
French  Minister  and  his  pretty  wife  to  look,  too, 

158 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

and  they  all  laughed  and  talked  together  in  great 
spirits,  and  Miss  Langham  wondered  if  Clay  was 
speaking  in  French  to  them. 

Miss  Langham  did  not  enjoy  the  ball;  she  felt 
injured  and  aggrieved,  and  she  assured  herself 
that  she  had  been  hardly  used.  She  had  only 
done  her  duty,  and  yet  all  the  sympathy  had  gone 
to  her  sister,  who  had  placed  her  in  a  trying  posi 
tion.  She  thought  it  was  most  inconsiderate. 

Hope  walked  slowly  across  the  veranda  when 
the  others  had  gone,  and  watched  the  carriage  as 
long  as  it  remained  in  sight.  Then  she  threw 
herself  into  a  big  arm-chair,  and  looked  down 
upon  her  pretty  frock  and  her  new  dancing-slip 
pers.  She,  too,  felt  badly  used. 

The  moonlight  fell  all  about  her,  as  it  had  on 
the  first  night  of  their  arrival,  a  month  before, 
but  now  it  seemed  cold  and  cheerless,  and  gave 
an  added  sense  of  loneliness  to  the  silent  house. 
She  did  not  go  inside  to  read,  as  she  had  prom 
ised  to  do,  but  sat  for  the  next  hour  looking  out 
across  the  harbor.  She  could  not  blame  Alice. 
She  considered  that  Alice  always  moved  by  rules 
and  precedents,  like  a  queen  in  a  game  of  chess, 
and  she  wondered  why.  It  made  life  so  tame  and 
uninteresting,  and  yet  people  invariably  admired 
Alice,  and  some  one  had  spoken  of  her  as  the 
noblest  example  of  the  modern  gentlewoman. 

159 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

She  was  sure  she  could  not  grow  up  to  be  any 
thing  like  that.  She  was  quite  confident  that  she 
was  going  to  disappoint  her  family.  She  won 
dered  if  people  would  like  her  better  if  she  were 
discreet  like  Alice,  and  less  like  her  brother  Ted. 
If  Mr.  Clay,  for  instance,  would  like  her  better? 
She  wondered  if  he  disapproved  of  her  riding  on 
the  engine  with  MacWilliams,  and  of  her  tearing 
through  the  mines  on  her  pony,  and  spearing  with 
a  lance  of  sugar-cane  at  the  mongrel  curs  that  ran 
to  snap  at  his  flanks.  She  remembered  his  look 
of  astonished  amusement  the  day  he  had  caught 
her  in  this  impromptu  pig-sticking,  and  she  felt  her 
self  growing  red  at  the  recollection.  She  was  sure 
he  thought  her  a  tomboy.  Probably  he  never 
thought  of  her  at  all. 

Hope  leaned  back  in  the  chair  and  looked  up 
at  the  stars  above  the  mountains  and  tried  to  think 
of  any  of  her  heroes  and  princes  in  fiction  who 
had  gone  through  such  interesting  experiences  as 
had  Mr.  Clay.  Some  of  them  had  done  so,  but 
they  were  creatures  in  a  book  and  this  hero  was 
alive,  and  she  knew  him,  and  had  probably  made 
him  despise  her  as  a  silly  little  girl  who  was 
scolded  and  sent  off  to  bed  like  a  disobedient 
child.  Hope  felt  a  choking  in  her  throat  and 
something  like  a  tear  creep  to  her  eyes:  but  she 
was  surprised  to  find  that  the  fact  did  not  make 

1 60 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

her  ashamed  of  herself.  She  owned  that  she  was 
wounded  and  disappointed,  and  to  make  it  harder 
she  could  not  help  picturing  Alice  and  Clay  laugh 
ing  and  talking  together  in  some  corner  away  from 
the  ball-room,  while  she,  who  understood  him  so 
well,  and  who  could  not  find  the  words  to  tell  him 
how  much  she  valued  what  he  was  and  what  he 
had  done,  was  forgotten  and  sitting  here  alone, 
like  Cinderella,  by  the  empty  fireplace. 

The  picture  was  so  pathetic  as  Hope  drew  it, 
that  for  a  moment  she  felt  almost  a  touch  of  self- 
pity,  but  the  next  she  laughed  scornfully  at  her 
own  foolishness,  and  rising  with  an  impatient 
shrug,  walked  away  in  the  direction  of  her  room. 

But  before  she  had  crossed  the  veranda  she  was 
stopped  by  the  sound  of  a  horse's  hoofs  galloping 
over  the  hard  sun-baked  road  that  led  from  the 
city,  and  before  she  had  stepped  forward  out  of 
the  shadow  in  which  she  stood  the  horse  had 
reached  the  steps  and  his  rider  had  pulled  him 
back  on  his  haunches  and  swung  himself  off  be 
fore  the  forefeet  had  touched  the  ground. 

Hope  had  guessed  that  it  was  Clay  by  his  rid 
ing,  and  she  feared  from  his  haste  that  some  one 
of  her  people  were  ill.  So  she  ran  anxiously  for 
ward  and  asked  if  anything  were  wrong. 

Clay  started  at  her  sudden  appearance,  and  gave 
a  short  boyish  laugh  of  pleasure. 

161 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"I'm  so  glad  you're  still  up,"  he  said.  "No, 
nothing  is  wrong."  He  stopped  in  some  embar 
rassment.  He  had  been  moved  to  return  by  the 
fact  that  the  little  girl  he  knew  was  in  trouble, 
and  now  that  he  was  suddenly  confronted  by  this 
older  and  statelier  young  person,  his  action  seemed 
particularly  silly,  and  he  was  at  a  loss  to  explain 
it  in  any  way  that  would  not  give  offence. 

"No,  nothing  is  wrong,"  he  repeated.  "I  came 
after  something." 

Clay  had  borrowed  one  of  the  cloaks  the  troop 
ers  wore  at  night  from  the  same  man  who  had 
lent  him  the  horse,  and  as  he  stood  bareheaded 
before  her,  with  the  cloak  hanging  from  his  shoul 
ders  to  the  floor  and  the  star  and  ribbon  across 
his  breast,  Hope  felt  very  grateful  to  him  for 
being  able  to  look  like  a  Prince  or  a  hero  in  a 
book,  and  to  yet  remain  her  Mr.  Clay  at  the  same 
time. 

"I  came  to  get  your  sister's  fan,"  Clay  ex 
plained.  "She  forgot  it." 

The  young  girl  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  in 
surprise  and  then  straightened  herself  slightly. 
She  did  not  know  whether  she  was  the  more  in 
dignant  with  Alice  for  sending  such  a  man  on  so 
foolish  an  errand,  or  with  Clay  for  submitting 
to  such  a  service. 

"Oh,  is  that  it?"  she  said  at  last.  "I  will  go 
16? 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

and  find  you  one."  She  gave  him  a  dignified  little 
bow  and  moved  away  toward  the  door,  with  every 
appearance  of  disapproval. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  she  heard  Clay  say,  doubt 
fully;  "I  don't  have  to  go  just  yet,  do  I?  May 
I  not  stay  here  a  little  while?" 

Hope  stood  and  looked  at  him  in  some  per 
plexity. 

"Why,  yes,"  she  answered,  wonderingly.  "But 
don't  you  want  to  go  back?  You  came  in  a  great 
hurry.  And  won't  Alice  want  her  fan?" 

"Oh,  she  has  it  by  this  time.  I  told  Stuart 
to  find  it.  She  left  it  in  the  carriage,  and  the 
carriage  is  waiting  at  the  end  of  the  plaza." 

"Then  why  did  you  come?"  asked  Hope,  with 
rising  suspicion. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  Clay,  helplessly.  "I 
thought  I'd  just  like  a  ride  in  the  moonlight.  I 
hate  balls  and  dances  anyway,  don't  you  ?  I  think 
you  were  very  wise  not  to  go." 

Hope  placed  her  hands  on  the  back  of  the  big 
arm-chair  and  looked  steadily  at  him  as  he  stood 
where  she  could  see  his  face  in  the  moonlight. 
"You  came  back,"  she  said,  "because  they  thought 
I  was  crying,  and  they  sent  you  to  see.  Is  that 
it?  Did  Alice  send  you?"  she  demanded. 

Clay  gave  a  gasp  of  consternation. 

"You  know  that  no  one  sent  me,"  he  said.  "I 
163 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

thought  they  treated  you  abominably,  and  I  want 
ed  to  come  and  say  so.  That's  all.  And  I  wanted 
to  tell  you  that  I  missed  you  very  much,  and  that 
your  not  coming  had  spoiled  the  evening  for  me, 
and  I  came  also  because  I  preferred  to  talk  to  you 
than  to  stay  where  I  was.  No  one  knows  that  I 
came  to  see  you.  I  said  I  was  going  to  get  the 
fan,  and  I  told  Stuart  to  find  it  after  I'd  left.  I 
just  wanted  to  see  you,  that's  all.  But  I  will  go 
back  again  at  once." 

While  he  had  been  speaking  Hope  had  low 
ered  her  eyes  from  his  face  and  had  turned  and 
looked  out  across  the  harbor.  There  was  a 
strange,  happy  tumult  in  her  breast,  and  she  was 
breathing  so  rapidly  that  she  was  afraid  he  would 
notice  it.  She  also  felt  an  absurd  inclination  to 
cry,  and  that  frightened  her.  So  she  laughed  and 
turned  and  looked  up  into  his  face  again.  Clay 
saw  the  same  look  in  her  eyes  that  he  had  seen 
there  the  day  when  she  had  congratulated  him  on 
his  work  at  the  mines.  He  had  seen  it  before  in 
the  eyes  of  other  women  and  it  troubled  him. 
Hope  seated  herself  in  the  big  chair,  and  Clay 
tossed  his  cloak  on  the  floor  at  her  feet  and  sat 
down  with  his  shoulders  against  one  of  the  pillars. 
He  glanced  up  at  her  and  found  that  the  look  that 
had  troubled  him  was  gone,  and  that  her  eyes  were 
now  smiling  with  excitement  and  pleasure. 

164 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"And  did  you  bring  me  something  from  the 
ball  in  your  pocket  to  comfort  me,"  she  asked, 
mockingly. 

"Yes,  I  did,"  Clay  answered,  unabashed.  "I 
brought  you  some  bonbons." 

"You  didn't,  really!"  Hope  cried,  with  a  shriek 
of  delight.  "How  absurd  of  you !  The  sort  you 
pull?" 

"The  sort  you  pull,"  Clay  repeated,  gravely. 
"And  also  a  dance-card,  which  is  a  relic  of  bar 
barism  still  existing  in  this  Southern  capital.  It 
has  the  arms  of  Olancho  on  it  in  gold,  and  I 
thought  you  might  like  to  keep  it  as  a  souvenir." 
He  pulled  the  card  from  his  coat-pocket  and  said, 
"May  I  have  this  dance?" 

"You  may,"  Hope  answered.  "But  you 
wouldn't  mind  if  we  sat  it  out,  would  you?" 

"I  should  prefer  it,"  Clay  said,  as  he  scrawled 
his  name  across  the  card.  "It  is  so  crowded  in 
side,  and  the  company  is  rather  mixed."  They 
both  laughed  lightly  at  their  own  foolishness,  and 
Hope  smiled  down  upon  him  affectionately  and 
proudly.  "You  may  smoke,  if  you  choose;  and 
would  you  like  something  cool  to  drink?"  she 
asked,  anxiously.  "After  your  ride,  you  know," 
she  suggested,  with  hospitable  intent.  Clay  said 
that  he  was  very  comfortable  without  a  drink,  but 
lighted  a  cigar  and  watched  her  covertly  through 

165 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

the  smoke,  as  she  sat  smiling  happily  and  quite 
unconsciously  upon  the  moonlit  world  around 
them.  She  caught  Clay's  eye  fixed  on  her,  and 
laughed  lightly. 

"What  is  it?"  he  said. 

"Oh,  I  was  just  thinking,"  Hope  replied,  "that 
it  was  much  better  to  have  a  dance  come  to  you, 
than  to  go  to  the  dance." 

"Does  one  man  and  a  dance-card  and  three  bon 
bons  constitute  your  idea  of  a  ball?" 

"Doesn't  it?  You  see,  I  am  not  out  yet,  I  don't 
know." 

"I  should  think  it  might  depend  a  good  deal 
upon  the  man,"  Clay  suggested, 

"That  sounds  as  though  you  were  hinting,''  said 
Hope,  doubtfully.  "Now  what  would  I  say  to 
that  if  I  were  out?" 

"I  don't  know,  but  don't  say  it,"  Clay  answered. 
"It  would  probably  be  something  very  unflatter 
ing  or  very  forward,  and  in  either  case  I  should 
take  you  back  to  your  chaperon  and  leave  you 
there." 

Hope  had  not  been  listening.  Her  eyes  were 
fixed  on  a  level  with  his  tie,  and  Clay  raised  his 
hand  to  it  in  some  trepidation.  "Mr.  Clay,"  she 
began  abruptly  and  leaning  eagerly  forward, 
"would  you  think  me  very  rude  if  I  asked  you 
what  you  did  to  get  all  those  crosses?  I  know 

166 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

they  mean  something,  and  I  do  so  want  to  know 
what.  Please  tell  me." 

"Oh,  those!'1  said  Clay.  "The  reason  I  put 
them  on  to-night  is  because  wearing  them  is  sup 
posed  to  be  a  sort  of  compliment  to  your  host.  I 
got  in  the  habit  abroad — " 

"I  didn't  ask  you  that,"  said  Hope,  severely. 
"I  asked  you  what  you  did  to  get  them.  Now 
begin  with  the  Legion  of  Honor  on  the  left,  and 
go  right  on  until  you  come  to  the  end,  and  please 
don't  skip  anything.  Leave  in  all  the  bloodthirsty 
parts,  and  please  don't  be  modest." 

"Like  Othello,"  suggested  Clay. 

"Yes,"  said  Hope;  "I  will  be  Desdemona." 

"Well,  Desdemona,  it  was  like  this,"  said  Clay, 
laughing.  "I  got  that  medal  and  that  star  for 
serving  in  the  Nile  campaign,  under  Wolseley. 
After  I  left  Egypt,  I  went  up  the  coast  to  Algiers, 
where  I  took  service  under  the  French  in  a  most 
disreputable  organization  known  as  the  Foreign 
Legion — " 

"Don't  tell  me,"  exclaimed  Hope,  in  delight, 
"that  you  have  been  a  Chasseur  d'Afrique !  Not 
like  the  man  in  'Under  Two  Flags'?" 

"No,  not  at  all  like  that  man,"  said  Clay,  em 
phatically.  "I  was  just  a  plain,  common,  or  gar 
den,  sappeur,  and  I  showed  the  other  good-for- 
nothings  how  to  dig  trenches.  Well,  I  contam- 

167 


Soldiers  or  Fortune 

inated  the  Foreign  Legion  for  eight  months,  and 
then  I  went  to  Peru,  where  I— 

"You're  skipping,"  said  Hope.  "How  did  you 
get  the  Legion  of  Honor?" 

"Oh,  that?"  said  Clay.  "That  was  a  gallery 
play  I  made  once  when  we  were  chasing  some 
Arabs.  They  took  the  French  flag  away  from 
our  color-bearer,  and  I  got  it  back  again  and  waved 
it  frantically  around  my  head  until  I  was  quite 
certain  the  Colonel  had  seen  me  doing  it,  and  then 
I  stopped  as  soon  as  I  knew  that  I  was  sure  of 
promotion." 

"Oh,  how  can  you?"  cried  Hope.  "You  didn't 
do  anything  of  the  sort.  You  probably  saved  the 
entire  regiment." 

"Well,  perhaps  I  did,"  Clay  returned.  "Though 
I  don't  remember  it,  and  nobody  mentioned  it  at 
the  time." 

"Go  on  about  the  others,"  said  Hope.  "And 
do  try  to  be  truthful." 

"Well,  I  got  this  one  from  Spain,  because  I 
was  President  of  an  International  Congress  of 
Engineers  at  Madrid.  That  was  the  ostensible 
reason,  but  the  real  reason  was  because  I  taught 
the  Spanish  Commissioners  to  play  poker  instead 
of  baccarat.  The  German  Emperor  gave  me  this 
for  designing  a  fort,  and  the  Sultan  of  Zanzibar 
gave  me  this,  and  no  one  but  the  Sultan  knows 

168 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

why,  and  he  won't  tell.  I  suppose  he's  ashamed. 
He  gives  them  away  instead  of  cigars.  He  was 
out  of  cigars  the  day  I  called." 

"What  a  lot  of  places  you  have  seen,"  sighed 
Hope.  "I  have  been  in  Cairo  and  Algiers,  too, 
but  I  always  had  to  walk  about  with  a  governess, 
and  she  wouldn't  go  to  the  mosques  because  she 
said  they  were  full  of  fleas.  We  always  go  to 
Homburg  and  Paris  in  the  summer,  and  to  big 
hotels  in  London.  I  love  to  travel,  but  T  don't 
love  to  travel  that  way,  would  you?" 

"I  travel  because  I  have  no  home,"  said  Clay. 
"I'm  different  from  the  chap  that  came  home  be 
cause  all  the  other  places  were  shut.  I  go  to  other 
places  because  there  is  no  home  open." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  Hope,  shaking  her 
head.  "Why  have  you  no  home?" 

"There  was  a  ranch  in  Colorado  that  I  used 
to  call  home,"  said  Clay,  "but  they've  cut  it  up 
into  town  lots.  I  own  a  plot  in  the  cemetery  out 
side  of  the  town,  where  my  mother  is  buried,  and 
I  visit  that  whenever  I  am  in  the  States,  and  that 
is  the  only  piece  of  earth  anywhere  in  the  world 
that  I  have  to  go  back  to." 

Hope  leaned  forward  with  her  hands  clasped 
in  front  of  her  and  her  eyes  wide  open. 

"And  your  father?"  she  said,  softly;  "is  he — 
is  he  there,  too — ' 

169 


Soldiers   of  Fortune 

Clay  looked  at  the  lighted  end  of  his  cigar  as 
he  turned  it  between  his  fingers. 

"My  father,  Miss  Hope,"  he  said,  "was  a  fili 
buster,  and  went  out  on  the  'Virginius'  to  help 
free  Cuba,  and  was  shot,  against  a  stone  wall. 
We  never  knew  where  he  was  buried." 

"Oh,  forgive  me;  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said 
Hope.  There  was  such  distress  in  her  voice  that 
Clay  looked  at  her  quickly  and  saw  the  tears  in 
her  eyes.  She  reached  out  her  hand  timidly,  and 
touched  for  an  instant  his  own  rough,  sunburned 
fist,  as  it  lay  clenched  on  his  knee.  "I  am  so 
sorry,"  she  said,  "so  sorry."  For  the  first  time 
in  many  years  the  tears  came  to  Clay's  eyes  and 
blurred  the  moonlight  and  the  scene  before  him, 
and  he  sat  unmanned  and  silent  before  the  simple 
touch  of  a  young  girl's  sympathy. 

An  hour  later,  \vhen  his  pony  struck  the  gravel 
from  beneath  his  hoofs  on  the  race  back  to  the 
city,  and  Clay  turned  to  wave  his  hand  to  Hope 
in  the  doorway,  she  seemed,  as  she  stood  with  the 
moonlight  falling  about  her  white  figure,  like  a 
spirit  beckoning  the  way  to  a  new  paradise. 


170 


VIII 

CLAY  reached  the  President's  Palace  during 
the  supper-hour,  and  found  Mr.  Langham 
and  his  daughter  at  the  President's  table.  Ma 
dame  Alvarez  pointed  to  a  place  for  him  beside 
Alice  Langham,  who  held  up  her  hand  in  wel 
come.  "You  were  very  foolish  to  rush  off  like 
that,"  she  said. 

"It  wasn't  there,"  said  Clay,  crowding  into  the 
place  beside  her. 

"No,  it  was  here  in  the  carriage  all  the  time. 
Captain  Stuart  found  it  for  me." 

"Oh,  he  did,  did  he?"  said  Clay;  "that's  why 
I  couldn't  find  it.  I  am  hungry,"  he  laughed,  "my 
ride  gave  me  an  appetite."  He  looked  over  and 
grinned  at  Stuart,  but  that  gentleman  was  staring 
fixedly  at  the  candles  on  the  table  before  him,  his 
eyes  filled  with  concern.  Clay  observed  that  Ma 
dame  Alvarez  was  covertly  watching  the  young 
officer,  and  frowning  her  disapproval  at  his  preoc 
cupation.  So  he  stretched  his  leg  under  the  table 
and  kicked  viciously  at  Stuart's  boots.  Old  Gen 
eral  Rojas,  the  Vice-President,  who  sat  next  to 
Stuart,  moved  suddenly  and  then  blinked  violently 

171 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

at  the  ceiling  with  an  expression  of  patient  suffer 
ing,  but  the  exclamation  which  had  escaped  him 
brought  Stuart  back  to  the  present,  and  he  talked 
with  the  woman  next  him  in  a  perfunctory  manner. 

Miss  Langham  and  her  father  were  waiting  for 
their  carriage  in  the  great  hall  of  the  Palace  as 
Stuart  came  up  to  Clay,  and  putting  his  hand  af 
fectionately  on  his  shoulder,  began  pointing  to 
something  farther  back  in  the  hall.  To  the  night- 
birds  of  the  streets  and  the  noisy  fiacre  drivers 
outside,  and  to  the  crowd  of  guests  who  stood 
on  the  high  marble  steps  waiting  for  their  turn 
to  depart,  he  might  have  been  relating  an  amusing 
anecdote  of  the  ball  just  over. 

"I'm  in  great  trouble,  old  man,"  was  what  he 
said.  "I  must  see  you  alone  to-night.  I'd  ask 
you  to  my  rooms,  but  they  watch  me  all  the  time, 
and  I  don't  want  them  to  suspect  you  are  in  this 
until  they  must.  Go  on  in  the  carriage,  but  get 
out  as  you  pass  the  Plaza  Bolivar,  and  wait  for 
me  by  the  statue  there." 

Clay  smiled,  apparently  in  great  amusement. 
"That's  very  good,"  he  said. 

He  crossed  over  to  where  King  stood  surveying 
the  powdered  beauties  of  Olancho  and  their  gowns 
of  a  past  fashion,  with  an  intensity  of  admiration 
which  would  have  been  suspicious  to  those  who 
knew  his  tastes.  "When  we  get  into  the  carriage," 

172 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

said  Clay,  in  a  low  voice,  "we  will  both  call  to 
Stuart  that  we  will  see  him  to-morrow  morning 
at  breakfast." 

"All  right,"  assented  King.     "What's  up?" 

Stuart  helped  Miss  Langham  into  her  carriage, 
and  as  it  moved  away  King  shouted  to  him  in 
English  to  remember  that  he  was  breakfasting 
with  him  on  the  morrow,  and  Clay  called  out  in 
Spanish,  "Until  to-morrow  at  breakfast,  don't  for 
get."  And  Stuart  answered,  steadily,  "Good 
night  until  to-morrow  at  one." 

As  their  carriage  jolted  through  the  dark  and 
narrow  street,  empty  now  of  all  noise  or  move 
ment,  one  of  Stuart's  troopers  dashed  by  it  at  a 
gallop,  with  a  lighted  lantern  swinging  at  his  side. 
He  raised  it  as  he  passed  each  street  crossing,  and 
held  it  high  above  his  head  so  that  its  light  fell 
upon  the  walls  of  the  houses  at  the  four  corners. 
The  clatter  of  his  horse's  hoofs  had  not  ceased 
before  another  trooper  galloped  toward  them  rid 
ing  more  slowly,  and  throwing  the  light  of  his 
lantern  over  the  trunks  of  the  trees  that  lined  the 
pavements.  As  the  carriage  passed  him,  he 
brought  his  horse  to  its  side  with  a  jerk  of  the 
bridle,  and  swung  his  lantern  in  the  faces  of  its 
occupants. 

"Who  lives?"  he  challenged. 

"Olancho,"  Clay  replied. 
173 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"Who  answers?" 

"Free  men,"  Clay  answered  again,  and  pointed 
at  the  star  on  his  coat. 

The  soldier  muttered  an  apology,  and  striking 
his  heels  into  his  horse's  side,  dashed  noisily  away, 
his  lantern  tossing  from  side  to  side,  high  in  the 
air,  as  he  drew  rein  to  scan  each  tree  and  passed 
from  one  lamp-post  to  the  next. 

"What  does  that  mean?"  said  Mr.  Langham; 
"did  he  take  us  for  highwaymen?" 

"It  is  the  custom,"  said  Clay.  "We  are  out 
rather  late,  you  see." 

"If  I  remember  rightly,  Clay,"  said  King,  "they 
gave  a  ball  at  Brussels  on  the  eve  of  Waterloo." 

"I  believe  they  did,"  said  Clay,  smiling.  He 
spoke  to  the  driver  to  stop  the  carriage,  and 
stepped  dowrn  into  the  street. 

"I  have  to  leave  you  here,"  he  said;  "drive  on 
quickly,  please;  I  can  explain  better  in  the  morn- 
ing." 

The  Plaza  Bolivar  stood  in  what  had  once  been 
the  centre  of  the  fashionable  life  of  Olancho,  but 
the  town  had  moved  farther  up  the  hill,  and  it 
was  now  far  in  the  suburbs,  its  walks  neglected 
and  its  turf  overrun  with  weeds.  The  houses 
about  it  had  fallen  into  disuse,  and  the  few  that 
were  still  occupied  at  the  time  Clay  entered  it 
showed  no  sign  of  life.  Clay  picked  his  way  over 

174 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

the  grass-grown  paths  to  the  statue  of  Bolivar, 
the  hero  of  the  sister  republic  of  Venezuela,  which 
still  stood  on  its  pedestal  in  a  tangle  of  underbrush 
and  hanging  vines.  The  iron  railing  that  had  once 
surrounded  it  was  broken  down,  and  the  branches 
of  the  trees  near  were  black  with  sleeping  buz 
zards.  Two  great  palms  reared  themselves  in  the 
moonlight  at  either  side,  and  beat  their  leaves  to 
gether  in  the  night  wind,  whispering  and  murmur 
ing  together  like  two  living  conspirators. 

"This  ought  to  be  safe  enough,"  Clay  mur 
mured  to  himself.  "It's  just  the  place  for  plot 
ting.  I  hope  there  are  no  snakes."  He  seated 
himself  on  the  steps  of  the  pedestal,  and  lighting 
a  cigar,  remained  smoking  and  peering  into  the 
shadows  about  him,  until  a  shadow  blacker  than 
the  darkness  rose  at  his  feet,  and  a  voice  saicl, 
sternly,  "Put  out  that  light.  I  saw  it  half  a  mile 
away." 

Clay  rose  and  crushed  his  cigar  under  his  foot. 
"Now  then,  old  man,"  he  demanded  briskly, 
"what's  up?  It's  nearly  daylight  and  we  must 
hurry." 

Stuart  seated  himself  heavily  on  the  stone  steps, 
like  a  man  tired  in  mind  and  body,  and  unfolded 
a  printed  piece  of  paper.  Its  blank  side  was  damp 
and  sticky  with  paste. 

"It  is  too  dark  for  you  to  see  this,"  he  began, 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

In  a  strained  voice,  "so  I  will  translate  it  to  you. 
It  is  an  attack  on  Madame  Alvarez  and  myself. 
They  put  them  up  during  the  ball,  when  they  knew 
my  men  would  be  at  the  Palace.  I  have  had  them 
scouring  the  streets  for  the  last  two  hours  tearing 
them  down,  but  they  are  all  over  the  place,  in  the 
cafes  and  clubso  They  have  done  what  they  were 
meant  to  do." 

Clay  took  another  cigar  from  his  pocket  and 
rolled  it  between  his  lips.  "What  does  it  say?" 
he  asked. 

"It  goes  over  the  old  ground  first.  It  says  Al 
varez  has  given  the  richest  birthright  of  his  coun 
try  to  aliens — that  means  the  mines  and  Langham 
— and  has  put  an  alien  in  command  of  the  army — 
that  is  meant  for  me.  I've  no  more  to  do  with 
the  army  than  you  have — I  only  wish  I  had !  And 
then  it  says  that  the  boundary  aggressions  of  Ecua 
dor  and  Venezuela  have  not  been  resented  in  con 
sequence.  It  asks  what  can  be  expected  of  a  Pres 
ident  who  is  as  blind  to  the  dishonor  of  his 
country  as  he  is  to  the  dishonor  of  his  own 
home?" 

Clay  muttered  under  his  breath,  "Well,  go  on. 
Is  it  explicit?  More  explicit  than  that?" 

"Yes,"  said  Stuart,  grimly.  "I  can't  repeat  it. 
It  is  quite  clear  what  they  mean." 

"Have  you  got  any  of  them?"  Clay  asked. 
176 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

Can  you  fix  it  on  some  one  that  you  can 
fight?" 

"Mendoza  did  it,  of  course,"  Stuart  answered, 
"but  we  cannot  prove  it.  And  if  we  could,  we 
are  not  strong  enough  to  take  him.  He  has  the 
city  full  of  his  men  now,  and  the  troops  are  pour 
ing  in  every  hour." 

"Well,  Alvarez  can  stop  that,  can't  he?" 

"They  are  coming  in  for  the  annual  review. 
He  can't  show  the  people  that  he  is  afraid  of  his 
own  army." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?" 

"What  am  I  going  to  do?"  Stuart  repeated, 
dully.  "That  is  what  I  want  you  to  tell  me.  There 
is  nothing  I  can  do  now.  I've  brought  trouble 
and  insult  on  people  who  have  been  kinder  to  me 
than  my  own  blood  have  been.  Who  took  me  in 
when  I  was  naked  and  clothed  me,  when  I  hadn't 
a  friend  or  a  sixpence  to  my  name.  You  remem 
ber — I  came  here  from  that  row  in  Colombia  with 
my  wound,  and  I  was  down  with  the  fever  when 
they  found  me,  and  Alvarez  gave  me  the  ap 
pointment.  And  this  is  how  I  reward  them.  If 
I  stay  I  do  more  harm.  If  I  go  away  I  leave  them 
surrounded  by  enemies,  and  not  enemies  who  fight 
fair,  but  damned  thieves  and  scoundrels,  who  stab 
at  women  and  who  fight  in  the  dark.  I  wouldn't 
have  had  it  happen,  old  man,  for  my  right  arm! 

177 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

They — they  have  been  so  kind  to  me,  and  I  have 
been  so  happy  here — and  now!"  The  boy  bowed 
his  face  in  his  hands  and  sat  breathing  brokenly 
while  Clay  turned  his  unlit  cigar  between  his  teeth 
and  peered  at  him  curiously  through  the  darkness. 
"Now  I  have  made  them  both  unhappy,  and  they 
hate  me,  and  I  hate  myself,  and  I  have  brought 
nothing  but  trouble  to  every  one.  First  I  made 
my  own  people  miserable,  and  now  I  make  my  best 
friends  miserable,  and  I  had  better  be  dead.  I 
wish  I  were  dead.  I  wish  I  had  never  been  born/' 

Clay  laid  his  hand  on  the  other's  bowed  shoul 
der  and  shook  him  gently.  "Don't  talk  like  that," 
he  said;  "it  does  no  good.  Why  do  you  hate 
yourself?" 

"What?"  asked  Stuart,  wearily,  without  look 
ing  up.  "What  did  you  say?" 

"You  said  you  had  made  them  hate  you,  and 
you  added  that  you  hated  yourself.  Well,  I  can 
see  why  they  naturally  would  be  angry  for  the 
time,  at  least.  But  why  do  you  hate  yourself? 
Have  you  reason  to?" 

"I  don't  understand,"  said  Stuart. 

"Well,  I  can't  make  it  any  plainer,"  Clay  re 
plied.  "It  isn't  a  question  I  will  ask.  But  you 
say  you  want  my  advice.  Well,  my  advice  to  my. 
friend  and  to  a  man  who  is  not  my  friend,  differ. 
And  In  this  case  it  depends  on  whether  what  that 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

thing—  '  Clay  kicked  the  paper  which  had  fallen 
on  the  ground — "what  that  thing  says  is  true." 

The  younger  man  looked  at  the  paper  below 
him  and  then  back  at  Clay,  and  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"Why,  damn  you,"  he  cried,  "what  do  you 
mean?" 

He  stood  above  Clay  with  both  arms  rigid  at 
J**s  side  and  his  head  bent  forward.  The  dawn 
had  just  broken,  and  the  two  men  saw  each  other 
in  the  ghastly  gray  light  of  the  morning.  "If 
any  man,"  cried  Stuart  thickly,  "dares  to  say  that 
that  blackguardly  lie  is  true  I'll  kill  him.  You 
or  any  one  else.  Is  that  what  you  mean,  damn 
you?  If  it  is,  say  so,  and  I'll  break  every  bone 
of  your  body." 

"Well,  that's  much  better,"  growled  Clay,  sul 
lenly.  "The  way  you  went  on  wishing  you  were 
dead  and  hating  yourself  made  me  almost  lose 
faith  in  mankind.  Now  you  go  make  that  speech 
to  the  President,  and  then  find  the  man  who  put 
up  those  placards,  and  if  you  can't  find  the  right 
man,  take  any  man  you  meet  and  make  him  eat  it, 
paste  and  all,  and  beat  him  to  death  if  he  doesn't. 
Why,  this  is  no  time  to  whimper — because  the 
world  is  full  of  liars.  Go  out  and  fight  them  and 
show  them  you  are  not  afraid.  Confound  you, 
you  had  me  so  scared  there  that  I  almost  thrashed 
you  myself.  Forgive  me,  won't  you?"  he  begged 

179 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

earnestly.  He  rose  and  held  out  his  hand  and  the 
other  took  it,  doubtfully.  "It  was  your  own  fault, 
you  young  idiot,"  protested  Clay.  "You  told  your 
story  the  wrong  way.  Now  go  home  and  get 
some  sleep  and  I'll  be  back  in  a  few  hours  to 
help  you.  Look!"  he  said.  He  pointed  through 
the  trees  to  the  sun  that  shot  up  like  a  red  hot 
disk  of  heat  above  the  cool  green  of  the  moun 
tains.  "See,"  said  Clay,  "God  has  given  us  an 
other  day.  Seven  battles  were  fought  in  seven 
days  once  in  my  country.  Let's  be  thankful,  old 
man,  that  we're  not  dead,  but  alive  to  fight  our 
own  and  other  people's  battles." 

The  younger  man  sighed  and  pressed  Clay's 
hand  again  before  he  dropped  it. 

"You  are  very  good  to  me,"  he  said.  "I'm 
not  just  quite  myself  this  morning.  I'm  a  bit 
nervous,  I  think.  You'll  surely  come,  won't  you?" 

"By  noon,"  Clay  promised.  "And  if  it  does 
come,"  he  added,  "don't  forget  my  fifteen  hun 
dred  men  at  the  mines." 

"Good!  I  won't,"  Stuart  replied.  "I'll  call 
on  you  if  I  need  them."  He  raised  his  fingers 
mechanically  to  his  helmet  in  salute,  and  catching 
up  his  sword  turned  and  strode  away  erect  and 
soldierly  through  the  debris  and  weeds  of  the  de 
serted  plaza. 

Clay  remained  motionless  on  the  steps  of  the 
1 80 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

pedestal  and  followed  the  younger  man  with  his 
eyes.  He  drew  a  long  breath  and  began  a  lei 
surely  search  through  his  pockets  for  his  match 
box,  gazing  about  him  as  he  did  so,  as  though 
looking  for  some  one  to  whom  he  could  speak  his 
feelings.  He  lifted  his  eyes  to  the  stern,  smooth- 
shaven  face  of  the  bronze  statue  above  him  that 
seemed  to  be  watching  Stuart's  departing  figure. 

"General  Bolivar,"  Clay  said,  as  he  lit  his  cigar, 
"observe  that  young  man.  He  is  a  soldier  and  a 
gallant  gentleman.  You,  sir,  were  a  great  soldier 
— the  greatest  this  God-forsaken  country  will  ever 
know — and  you  were,  sir,  an  ardent  lover.  I  ask 
you  to  salute  that  young  man  as  I  do,  and  to  wish 
him  well."  Clay  lifted  his  high  hat  to  the  back 
of  the  young  officer  as  it  was  hidden  in  the  hang 
ing  vines,  and  once  again,  with  grave  respect  to 
the  grim  features  of  the  great  general  above  him, 
and  then  smiling  at  his  own  conceit,  he  ran  lightly 
down  the  steps  and  disappeared  among  the  trees 
of  the  plaza. 


181 


IX 


CLAY  slept  for  three  hours.  He  had  left  a 
note  on  the  floor  instructing  MacWilliams 
and  young  Langham  not  to  go  to  the  mines,  but 
to  waken  him  at  ten  o'clock,  and  by  eleven  the 
three  men  were  galloping  off  to  the  city.  As  they 
left  the  Palms  they  met  Hope  returning  from  a 
morning  ride  on  the  Alameda,  and  Clay  begged 
her,  with  much  concern,  not  to  ride  abroad  again. 
There  was  a  difference  in  his  tone  toward  her. 
There  was  more  anxiety  in  it  than  the  occasion 
seemed  to  justify,  and  he  put  his  request  in  the 
form  of  a  favor  to  himself,  while  the  day  previous 
he  would  simply  have  told  her  that  she  must  not 
go  riding  alone. 

"Why?"  asked  Hope,  eagerly.  "Is  there  going 
to  be  trouble?" 

"I  hope  not,"  Clay  said,  "but  the  soldiers  are 
coming  in  from  the  provinces  for  the  review,  and 
the  roads  are  not  safe." 

"I'd  be  safe  with  you,  though,"  said  Hope, 
smiling  persuasively  upon  the  three  men.  "Won't 
you  take  me  with  you,  please?" 

"Hope,"  said  young  Langham  in  the  tone  of 
182 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

the  elder  brother's  brief  authority,  "you  must  go 
home  at  once." 

Hope  smiled  wickedly.  "I  don't  want  to,"  she 
said. 

"I'll  bet  you  a  box  of  cigars  I  can  beat  you  to 
the  veranda  by  fifty  yards,"  said  MacWilliams, 
turning  his  horse's  head. 

Hope  clasped  her  sailor  hat  in  one  hand  and 
swung  her  whip  with  the  other.  "I  think  not," 
she  cried,  and  disappeared  with  a  flutter  of  skirts 
and  a  scurry  of  flying  pebbles. 

"At  times,"  said  Clay,  "MacWilliams  shows 
an  unexpected  knowledge  of  human  nature." 

"Yes,  he  did  quite  right,"  assented  Langham, 
nodding  his  head  mysteriously.  "We've  no  time 
for  girls  at  present,  have  we?" 

"No,  indeed,"  said  Clay,  hiding  any  sign  of  a 
smile. 

Langham  breathed  deeply  at  the  thought  of  the 
part  he  was  to  play  in  this  coming  struggle,  and 
remained  respectfully  silent  as  they  trotted  toward 
the  city.  He  did  not  wish  to  disturb  the  plots 
and  counterplots  that  he  was  confident  were  form 
ing  in  Clay's  brain,  and  his  devotion  would  have 
been  severely  tried  had  he  known  that  his  hero's 
mind  was  filled  with  a  picture  of  a  young  girl  in  a 
blue  shirt-waist  and  a  whipcord  riding-skirt. 

Clay  sent  for  Stuart  to  join  them  at  the  res- 
183 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

taurant,  and  MacWilliams  arriving  at  the  same 
time,  the  four  men  seated  themselves  conspicu 
ously  in  the  centre  of  the  cafe  and  sipped  their 
chocolate  as  though  unconscious  of  any  imminent 
danger,  and  in  apparent  freedom  from  all  responsi 
bilities  and  care.  While  MacWilliams  and  Lang- 
ham  laughed  and  disputed  over  a  game  of  dom 
inoes,  the  older  men  exchanged,  under  cover  of 
their  chatter,  the  few  words  which  they  had  met 
to  speak. 

The  manifestoes,  Stuart  said,  had  failed  of  their 
purpose.  He  had  already  called  upon  the  Presi 
dent,  and  had  offered  to  resign  his  position  and 
leave  the  country,  or  to  stay  and  nVht  his  ma- 
ligners,  and  take  up  arms  at  once  against  Men- 
doza's  party.  Alvarez  had  treated  him  like  a  son, 
and  bade  him  be  patient.  He  held  that  Caesar's 
wife  was  above  suspicion  because  she  was  Cesar's 
wife,  and  that  no  canards  posted  at  midnight  could 
affect  his  faith  in  his  wife  or  in  his  friend.  He 
refused  to  believe  that  any  coup  d'etat  was  immi 
nent,  save  the  one  which  he  himself  meditated 
when  he  was  ready  to  proclaim  the  country  in  a 
state  of  revolution,  and  to  assume  a  military  dic 
tatorship. 

"What  nonsense !"  exclaimed  Clav.  "What  is 
a  military  dictatorship  without  soldiers?  Can't 
he  see  that  the  army  is  with  Mendoza?" 

184 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"No,"  Stuart  replied.  "Rojas  and  I  were  with 
him  all  the  morning.  Rojas  is  an  old  trump,  Clay. 
He's  not  bright  and  he's  old-fashioned;  but  he  is 
honest.  And  the  people  know  it.  If  I  had  Rojas 
for  a  chief  instead  of  Alvarez,  I'd  arrest  Mendoza 
with  my  own  hand,  and  I  wouldn't  be  afraid  to 
take  him  to  the  carcel  through  the  streets.  The 
people  wouldn't  help  him.  But  the  President 
doesn't  dare.  Not  that  he  hasn't  pluck,"  added 
the  young  lieutenant,  loyally,  "for  he  takes  his 
life  in  his  hands  when  he  goes  to  the  review  to 
morrow,  and  he  knows  it.  Think  of  it,  will  you, 
out  there  alone  with  a  field  of  five  thousand  men 
around  him!  Rojas  thinks  he  can  hold  half  of 
them,  as  many  as  Mendoza  can,  and  I  have  my 
fifty.  But  you  can't  tell  what  any  one  of  them 
will  do  for  a  drink  or  a  dollar.  They're  no  more 
soldiers  than  these  waiters.  They're  bandits  in  uni 
form,  and  they'll  kill  for  the  man  that  pays  best." 

"Then  why  doesn't  Alvarez  pay  them?"  Clay 
growled. 

Stuart  looked  away  and  lowered  his  eyes  to  the 
table.  "He  hasn't  the  money,  I  suppose,"  he  said, 
evasively.  "He — he  has  transferred  every  cent  of 
it  into  drafts  on  Rothschild.  They  are  at  the 
house  now,  representing  five  millions  of  dollars 
in  gold — and  her  jewels,  too — packed  ready  for 
flight." 

185 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"Then  he  does  expect  trouble?"  said  Clay. 
"You  told  me—" 

"They're  all  alike;  you  know  them,"  said  Stu 
art.  "They  won't  believe  they're  in  danger  until 
the  explosion  comes,  but  they  always  have  a  special 
train  ready,  and  they  keep  the  funds  of  the  gov 
ernment  under  their  pillows.  He  engaged  apart 
ments  on  the  Avenue  Kleber  six  months  ago." 

"Bah!"  said  Clay.  "It's  the  old  story.  Why 
don't  you  quit  him?" 

Stuart  raised  his  eyes  and  dropped  them  again, 
and  Clay  sighed.  "I'm  sorry,"  he  said, 

MacWilliams  interrupted  them  in  an  indignant 
stage-whisper.  "Say,  how  long  have  we  got  to 
keep  up  this  fake  game?"  he  asked.  "I  don't 
know  anything  about  dominoes,  and  neither  docs 
Ted.  Tell  us  what  you've  been  saying.  Is  there 
going  to  be  trouble?  If  there  is,  Ted  and  I  want 
to  be  In  it.  We  are  looking  for  trouble." 

Clay  had  tipped  back  his  chair,  and  was  sur 
veying  the  restaurant  and  the  blazing  plaza  be 
yond  its  open  front  with  an  expression  of  cheerful 
unconcern.  Two  men  were  reading  the  morning 
papers  near  the  door,  and  two  others  were  drag 
ging  through  a  game  of  dominoes  in  a  far  corner. 
The  heat  ok  midday  had  settled  on  the  place,  and 
the  waiters  dozed,  with  their  chairs  tipped  back 
against  the  walls.  Outside,  the  awning  of  the  res- 

186 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

taurant  threw  a  broad  shadow  across  the  marble- 
topped  tables  on  the  sidewalk,  and  half  a  dozen 
fiacre  drivers  slept  peacefully  in  their  carriages  be 
fore  the  door. 

The  town  was  taking  its  siesta,  and  the  brisk 
step  of  a  stranger  who  crossed  the  tessellated  floor 
and  rapped  with  his  knuckles  on  the  top  of  the 
cigar-case  was  the  only  sign  of  life.  The  new 
comer  turned  with  one  hand  on  the  glass  case  and 
swept  the  room  carelessly  with  his  eyes.  They 
were  hard  blue  eyes  under  straight  eyebrows. 
Their  owner  was  dressed  unobtrusively  in  a  suit 
of  rough  tweed,  and  this  and  his  black  hat,  and 
the  fact  that  he  was  smooth-shaven,  distinguished 
him  as  a  foreigner. 

As  he  faced  them  the  forelegs  of  Clay's  chair 
descended  slowly  to  the  floor,  and  he  began  to 
smile  comprehendingly  and  to  nod  his  head  as 
though  the  coming  of  the  stranger  had  explained 
something  of  which  he  had  been  in  doubt.  His 
companions  turned  and  followed  the  direction  of 
his  eyes,  but  saw  nothing  of  interest  in  the  new- 
corner.  He  looked  as  though  he  might  be  a  con 
cession  hunter  from  the  States,  or  a  Manchester 
drummer,  prepared  to  offer  six  months'  credit  on 
blankets  and  hardware. 

Clay  rose  and  strode  across  the  room,  circling 
the  tables  in  such  a  way  that  he  could  keep  him- 

187 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

self  between  the  stranger  and  the  door.  At  his 
approach  the  new-comer  turned  his  back  and  fum 
bled  with  his  change  on  the  counter. 

"Captain  Burke,  I  believe?"  said  Clay.  The 
stranger  bit  the  cigar  he  had  just  purchased,  and 
shook  his  head.  "I  am  very  glad  to  see  you," 
Clay  continued.  "Sit  down,  won't  you?  I  want 
to  talk  with  you." 

"I  think  you've  made  a  mistake,"  the  stranger 
answered,  quietly.  "My  name  is — 

"Colonel,  perhaps,  then,"  said  Clay.  "I  might 
have  known  it.  I  congratulate  you,  Colonel." 

The  man  looked  at  Clay  for  an  instant,  with 
the  cigar  clenched  between  his  teeth  and  his  blue 
eyes  fixed  steadily  on  the  other's  face.  Clay  waved 
his  hand  again  invitingly  toward  a  table,  and  the 
man  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  laughed,  and, 
pulling  a  chair  toward  him,  sat  down. 

"Come  over  here,  boys,"  Clay  called.  "I  want 
you  to  meet  an  old  friend  of  mine,  Captain  Burke." 

The  man  called  Burke  stared  at  the  three  men 
as  they  crossed  the  room  and  seated  themselves 
at  the  table,  and  nodded  to  them  in  silence. 

"We  have  here,"  said  Clay,  gayly,  but  in  a  low 
voice,  "the  key  to  the  situation.  This  is  the  gen 
tleman  who  supplies  Mendoza  with  the  sinews  of 
war.  Captain  Burke  is  a  brave  soldier  and  a  citi 
zen  of  my  own  or  of  any  country,  indeed,  which 

1 88 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

happens  to  have  the  most  sympathetic  Consul- 
General." 

Burke  smiled  grimly,  with  a  condescending  nod, 
and  putting  away  the  cigar,  took  out  a  brier  pipe 
and  began  to  fill  it  from  his  tobacco-pouch.  "The 
Captain  is  a  man  of  few  words  and  extremely 
modest  about  himself,"  Clay  continued,  lightly; 
"so  I  must  tell  you  who  he  is  myself.  He  is  a 
promoter  of  revolutions.  That  is  his  business, — 
a  professional  promoter  of  revolutions,  and  that 
is  what  makes  me  so  glad  to  see  him  again.  He 
knows  all  about  the  present  crisis  here,  and  he  is 
going  to  tell  us  all  he  knows  as  soon  as  he  fills 
his  pipe.  I  ought  to  warn  you,  Burke/'  he  added, 
"that  this  is  Captain  Stuart,  in  charge  of  the  po 
lice  and  the  President's  cavalry  troop.  So,  you 
see,  whatever  you  say,  you  will  have  one  man  who 
will  listen  to  you," 

Burke  crossed  one  short  fat  leg  over  the  other, 
and  crowded  the  tobacco  in  the  bowl  of  his  pipe 
with  his  thumb. 

"I  thought  you  were  in  Chili,  Clay,"  he  said. 

"No,  you  didn't  think  I  was  in  Chili,"  Clay 
replied,  kindly.  "I  left  Chili  two  years  ago.  The 
Captain  and  I  met  there,"  he  explained  to  the 
others,  "when  Balmaceda  was  trying  to  make  him 
self  dictator.  The  Captain  was  on  the  side  of  the 
Congressionalists,  and  was  furnishing  arms  and 

189 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

dynamite.  The  Captain  is  always  on  the  winning 
side,  at  least  he  always  has  been — up  to  the  pres 
ent.  He  is  not  a  creature  of  sentiment;  arc  you, 
Burke?  The  Captain  believes  with  Napoleon 
that  God  is  on  the  side  that  has  the  heaviest  ar 
tillery." 

Burke  lighted  his  pipe  and  drummed  absent- 
mindedly  on  the  table  with  his  match-box. 

"I  can't  afford  to  be  sentimental,"  he  said. 
"Not  in  my  business." 

"Of  course  not,"  Clay  assented,  cheerfully.  He 
looked  at  Burke  and  laughed,  as  though  the  sight 
of  him  recalled  pleasant  memories.  "I  wish  I 
could  give  these  boys  an  idea  of  how  clever  you 
are,  Captain,"  he  said.  "The  Captain  was  the 
first  man,  for  instance,  to  think  of  packing  car 
tridges  in  tubs  of  lard,  and  of  sending  rifles  in 
piano-cases.  He  represents  the  Welby  revolver 
people  in  England,  and  half  a  dozen  firms  in  the 
States,  and  he  has  his  little  stores  in  Tampa  and 
Mobile  and  Jamaica,  ready  to  ship  off  at  a  mo 
ment's  notice  to  any  revolution  in  Central  Amer 
ica.  When  I  first  met  the  Captain,"  Clay  contin 
ued,  gleefully,  and  quite  unmindful  of  the  other's 
continued  silence,  "he  was  starting  off  to  rescue 
Arabi  Pasha  from  the  island  of  Ceylon.  You  may 
remember,  boys,  that  when  Dufferin  saved  Arabi 
from  hanging,  the  British  shipped  him  to  Ceylon 

190 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

as  a  political  prisoner.  Well,  the  Captain  was 
sent  by  Arabi's  followers  in  Egypt  to  bring  him 
back  to  lead  a  second  rebellion.  Burke  had  every 
body  bribed  at  Ceylon,  and  a  fine  schooner  fitted 
out  and  a  lot  of  ruffians  to  do  the  fighting,  and 
then  the  good,  kind  British  Government  pardoned 
Arabi  the  day  before  Burke  arrived  in  port.  And 
you  never  got  a  cent  for  it;  did  you,  Burke?" 

Burke  shook  his  head  and  frowned. 

"Six  thousand  pounds  sterling  I  was  to  have  got 
for  that,"  he  said,  with  a  touch  of  pardonable 
pride  in  his  voice,  "and  they  set  him  free  the  day 
before  I  got  there,  just  as  Mr.  Clay  tells  you." 

"And  then  you  headed  Granville  Prior's  expe 
dition  for  buried  treasure  off  the  island  of  Cocos, 
didn't  you?"  said  Clay.  "Go  on,  tell  them  about 
it.  Be  sociable.  You  ought  to  write  a  book  about 
your  different  business  ventures,  Burke,  indeed  you 
ought;  but  then,"  Clay  added,  smiling,  "nobody 
would  believe  you."  Burke  rubbed  his  chin, 
thoughtfully,  with  his  fingers,  and  looked  mod 
estly  at  the  ceiling,  and  the  two  younger  boys 
gazed  at  him  with  open-mouthed  interest. 

"There  ain't  anything  in  buried  treasure,"  he 
said,  after  a  pause,  "except  the  money  that's  sunk 
in  the  fitting  out.  It  sounds  good,  but  it's  all 
foolishness." 

"All  foolishness,  eh?"  said  Clay,  encouraging- 
191 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

ly.  "And  what  did  you  do  after  Balmaceda  was 
beaten? — after  I  last  saw  you?" 

"Crespo,"  Burke  replied,  after  a  pause,  during 
which  he  pulled  gently  on  his  pipe.  "  'Caroline 
Brewer' — cleared  from  Key  West  for  Curasao, 
with  cargo  of  sewing-machines  and  ploughs — 
beached  below  Maracaibo — thirty-five  thousand 
rounds  and  two  thousand  rifles — at  twenty  boli 
vars  apiece." 

"Of  course,"  said  Clay,  in  a  tone  of  genuine 
appreciation.  "I  might  have  known  you'd  be  in 
that.  He  says,"  he  explained,  "that  he  assisted 
General  Crespo  in  Venezuela  during  his  revolution 
against  Guzman  Blanco's  party,  and  loaded  a 
tramp  steamer  called  the  'Caroline  Brewer'  at  Key 
West  with  arms,  which  he  landed  safely  at  a  place 
for  which  he  had  no  clearance  papers,  and  he  re 
ceived  forty  thousand  dollars  in  our  money  for 
the  job — and  very  good  pay,  too,  I  should  think," 
commented  Clay. 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  Burke  demurred.  "You 
take  in  the  cost  of  leasing  the  boat  and  provision 
ing  her,  and  the  crew's  wages,  and  the  cost  of  the 
cargo;  that  cuts  into  profits.  Then  I  had  to  stand 
off  shore  between  Trinidad  and  Curacao  for  over 
three  weeks  before  I  got  the  signal  to  run  in,  and 
after  that  I  was  chased  by  a  gun-boat  for  three 
days,  and  the  crazy  fool  put  a  shot  clean  through 

192 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

my  engine-room.  Cost  me  about  twelve  hundred 
dollars  in  repairs." 

There  was  a  pause,  and  Clay  turned  his  eyes 
to  the  street,  and  then  asked,  abruptly,  "What  are 
you  doing  now?" 

"Trying  to  get  orders  for  smokeless  powder," 
Burke  answered,  promptly.  Pie  met  Clay's  look 
with  eyes  as  undisturbed  as  his  own.  "But  they 
won't  touch  it  down  here,"  he  went  on.  "It 
doesn't  appeal  to  'em.  It's  too  expensive,  and 
they'd  rather  see  the  smoke.  It  makes  them 
think—" 

"How  long  did  you  expect  to  stay  here?"  Clay 
interrupted. 

"How  long?"  repeated  Burke,  like  a  man  in  a 
witness-box  who  is  trying  to  gain  time.  "Well,  I 
was  thinking  of  leaving  by  Friday,  and  taking  a 
mule-train  over  to  Bogota  instead  of  waiting  for 
the  steamer  to  Colon."  He  blew  a  mouthful  of 
smoke  into  the  air  and  watched  it  drifting  toward 
the  door  with  apparent  interest. 

"The  'Santiago'  leaves  here  Saturday  for  New 
York.  I  guess  you  had  better  wait  over  for  her," 
Clay  said.  "I'll  engage  your  passage,  and,  in  the 
meantime,  Captain  Stuart  here  will  see  that  they 
treat  you  well  in  the  cuartel." 

The  men  around  the  table  started,  and  sat  mo- 
tionless  looking  at  Clay,  but  Burke  only  took  his 

193 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

pipe  from  his  mouth  and  knocked  the  ashes  out 
on  the  heel  of  his  boot.  "What  am  I  going  to 
the  cuartel  for?"  he  asked. 

"Well,  the  public  good,  I  suppose,"  laughed 
Clay.  "I'm  sorry,  but  it's  your  own  fault.  You 
shouldn't  have  shown  yourself  here  at  all." 

"What  have  you  got  to  do  with  it?"  asked 
Burke,  calmly,  as  he  began  to  refill  his  pipe.  He 
had  the  air  of  a  man  who  saw  nothing  before  him 
but  an  afternoon  of  pleasant  discourse  and  lei 
surely  inactivity. 

"You  know  what  I've  got  to  do  with  it,"  Clay 
replied.  "I've  got  our  concession  to  look  after." 

"Well,  you're  not  running  the  town,  too,  are 
you?"  asked  Burke. 

"No,  but  I'm  going  to  run  you  out  of  it,"  Clay 
answered.  "Now,  what  are  you  going  to  do, — 
make  it  unpleasant  for  us  and  force  our  hand,  or 
drive  down  quietly  with  our  friend  MacWilliams 
here?  He  is  the  best  one  to  take  you,  because  he's 
not  so  well  known." 

Burke  turned  his  head  and  looked  over  his 
shoulder  at  Stuart. 

"You  taking  orders  from  Mr.  Clay,  to-day, 
Captain  Stuart?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  Stuart  answered,  smiling.  "I  agree  with 
Mr.  Clay  in  whatever  he  thinks  right." 

"Oh,  well,  in  that  case,"  said  Burke,  rising  re- 
1194 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

luctantly,  with  a  protesting  sigh,  "I  guess  I'd  bet 
ter  call  on  the  American  minister." 

"You  can't.  He's  in  Ecuador  on  his  annual 
visit,"  said  Clay. 

"Indeed !  That's  bad  for  me,"  muttered  Burke, 
as  though  in  much  concern.  "Well,  then,  I'll  ask 
you  to  let  me  see  our  consul  here." 

"Certainly,"  Clay  assented,  with  alacrity.  "Mr. 
Langham,  this  young  gentleman's  father,  got  him 
his  appointment,  so  I've  no  doubt  he'll  be  only 
too  glad  to  do  anything  for  a  friend  of  ours." 

Burke  raised  his  eyes  and  looked  inquiringly  at 
Clay,  as  though  to  assure  himself  that  this  was 
true,  and  Clay  smiled  back  at  him. 

"Oh,  very  well,"  Burke  said.  "Then,  as  I  hap 
pen  to  be  an  Irishman  by  the  name  of  Burke,  and 
a  British  subject,  I'll  try  Her  Majesty's  repre 
sentative,  and  we'll  see  if  he  will  allow  me  to  be 
locked  up  without  a  reason  or  a  warrant." 

"That's  no  good,  either,"  said  Clay,  shaking 
his  head.  "You  fixed  your  nationality,  as  far  as 
this  continent  is  concerned,  in  Rio  harbor,  when 
Peixoto  handed  you  over  to  the  British  admiral, 
and  you  claimed  to  be  an  American  citizen,  and 
were  sent  on  board  the  'Detroit.'  If  there's  any 
doubt  about  that  we've  only  got  to  cable  to  Rio 
Janeiro — to  either  legation.  But  what's  the  use? 
They  know  me  here,  and  they  don't  know  you, 

195 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

and  I  do.  You'll  have  to  go  to  jail  and  stay 
there." 

"Oh,  well,  if  you  put  it  that  way,  I'll  go,"  said 
Burke.  "But,"  he  added,  in  a  lower  voice,  "it's 
too  late,  Clay." 

The  expression  of  amusement  on  Clay's  face, 
and  his  ease  of  manner,  fell  from  him  at  the  words, 
and  he  pulled  Burke  back  into  the  chair  again. 
"What  do  you  mean?"  he  asked,  anxiously. 

"I  mean  just  that,  it's  too  late,"  Burke  an 
swered.  "I  don't  mind  going  to  jail.  I  won't  be 
there  long.  My  work's  all  done  and  paid  for. 
I  was  only  staying  on  to  see  the  fun  at  the  finish, 
to  see  you  fellows  made  fools  of." 

"Oh,  you're  sure  of  that,  are  you?"  asked  Clay. 

"My  dear  boy!"  exclaimed  the  American,  with 
a  suggestion  in  his  speech  of  his  Irish  origin,  as 
his  interest  rose.  "Did  you  ever  know  me  to  go 
into  anything  of  this  sort  for  the  sentiment  of  it? 
Did  you  ever  know  me  to  back  the  losing  side? 
No.  Well,  I  tell  you  that  you  fellows  have  no 
more  show  in  this  than  a  parcel  of  Sunday-school 
children.  Of  course  I  can't  say  when  they  mean 
to  strike.  I  don't  know,  and  I  wouldn't  tell  you 
if  I  did.  But  when  they  do  strike  there'll  be  no 
striking  back.  It'll  be  all  over  but  the  cheering." 

Burke's  tone  was  calm  and  positive.  He  held 
the  centre  of  the  stage  now,  and  he  looked  from 

196 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

one  to  the  other  of  the  serious  faces  around  him 
with  an  expression  of  pitying  amusement. 

"Alvarez  may  get  off,  and  so  may  Madame 
Alvarez,"  he  added,  lowering  his  voice  and  turn 
ing  his  face  away  from  Stuart.  "But  not  if  she 
shows  herself  in  the  streets,  and  not  if  she  tries 
to  take  those  drafts  and  jewels  with  her." 

"Oh,  you  know  that,  do  you?"  interrupted  Clay. 

"I  know  nothing,"  Burke  replied.  "At  least, 
nothing  to  what  the  rest  of  them  know.  That's 
only  the  gossip  I  pick  up  at  headquarters.  It 
doesn't  concern  me.  I've  delivered  my  goods  and 
given  my  receipt  for  the  money,  and  that's  all  I 
care  about.  But  if  it  will  make  an  old  friend  fee! 
any  more  comfortable  to  have  me  in  jail,  why,  I'll 
go,  that's  all" 

Clay  sat  with  pursed  lips  looking  at  Stuart. 
The  two  boys  leaned  with  their  elbows  on  the 
tables  and  stared  at  Burke,  who  was  searching  lei 
surely  through  his  pockets  for  his  match-box.  From 
outside  came  the  lazy  cry  of  a  vendor  of  lottery 
tickets,  and  the  swift,  uneven  patter  of  bare  feet, 
as  company  after  company  of  dust-covered  soldiers 
passed  on  their  way  from  the  provinces,  with  their 
shoes  swinging  from  their  bayonets. 

Clay  slapped  the  table  with  an  exclamation  of 
impatience. 

"After  all,  this  is  only  a  matter  of  business,'1 
197 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

he  said,  "with  all  of  us.  What  do  you  say,  Burke, 
to  taking  a  ride  with  me  to  Stuart's  rooms,  and 
having  a  talk  there  with  the  President  and  Mr. 
Langham?  Langham  has  three  millions  sunk  in 
these  mines,  and  Alvarez  has  even  better  reasons 
than  that  for  wanting  to  hold  his  job.  What  do 
you  say?  That's  better  than  going  to  jail.  Tell 
us  what  they  mean  to  do,  and  who  is  to  do  it,  and 
I'll  let  you  name  your  own  figure,  and  I'll  guar 
antee  you  that  they'll  meet  it.  As  long  as  you've 
no  sentiment,  you  might  as  well  fight  on  the  side 
that  will  pay  best." 

Burke  opened  his  lips  as  though  to  speak,  and 
then  shut  them  again,  closely.  If  the  others 
thought  that  he  was  giving  Clay's  proposition  a 
second  and  more  serious  thought,  he  was  quick  to 
undeceive  them. 

"There  are  men  in  the  business  who  do  that 
sort  of  thing,"  he  said.  "They  sell  arms  to  one 
man,  and  sell  the  fact  that  he's  got  them  to  the 
deputy-marshals,  and  sell  the  story  of  how  smart 
they've  been  to  the  newspapers.  And  they  never 
make  any  more  sales  after  that.  I'd  look  pretty, 
wouldn't  I,  bringing  stuff  into  this  country,  and 
getting  paid  for  it,  and  then  telling  you  where  it 
was  hid,  and  everything  else  I  knew?  I've  no 
sentiment,  as  you  say,  but  I've  got  business  in 
stinct,  and  that's  not  business.  No,  I've  told  you 

198 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

enough,  and  if  you  think  I'm  not  safe  at  large, 
why  I'm  quite  ready  to  take  a  ride  with  your 
young  friend  here." 

MacWilliams  rose  with  alacrity,  and  beaming 
with  pleasure  at  the  importance  of  the  duty  thrust 
upon  him. 

Burke  smiled.  "The  young  'un  seems  to  like 
the  job,"  he  said. 

"It's  an  honor  to  be  associated  with  Captain 
Burke  in  any  way,"  said  MacWilliams,  as  he  fol 
lowed  him  into  a  cab,  while  Stuart  galloped  oft 
before  them  in  the  direction  of  the  cuartel. 

"You  wouldn't  think  so  if  you  knew  better," 
said  Burke.  "My  friends  have  been  watching  us 
while  we  have  been  talking  in  there  for  the  last 
hour.  They're  watching  us  now,  and  if  I  were 
to  nod  my  head  during  this  ride,  they'd  throw  you 
out  into  the  street  and  set  me  free,  if  they  had 
to  break  the  cab  into  kindling-wood  while  they 
were  doing  it." 

MacWilliams  changed  his  seat  to  the  one  oppo 
site  his  prisoner,  and  peered  up  and  down  the 
street  in  some  anxiety. 

"I  suppose  you  know  there's  an  answer  to  that, 
don't  you?"  he  asked.  "Well,  the  answer  is,  that 
if  you  nod  your  head  once,  you  lose  the  top  of  it." 

Burke  gave  an  exclamation  of  disgust,  and 
gazed  at  his  zealous  guardian  with  an  expres- 

199 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

sion  of  trepidation  and  unconcealed  disapproval. 
"You're  not  armed,  are  you?"  he  asked. 

MacWilliams  nodded.  "Why  not?"  he  said; 
"these  are  rather  heavy  weather  times,  just  at 
present,  thanks  to  you  and  your  friends.  Why, 
you  seem  rather  afraid  of  fire-arms,"  he  added, 
with  the  intolerance  of  youth. 

The  Irish-American  touched  the  young  man  on 
the  knee,  and  lifted  his  hat.  "My  son,"  he  said, 
"when  your  hair  is  as  gray  as  that,  and  you  have 
been  through  six  campaigns,  you'll  be  brave  enough 
to  own  that  you're  afraid  of  fire-arms,  too." 


200 


X 


CLAY  and  Langham  left  MacWilliams  and 
Stuart  to  look  after  their  prisoner,  and  re 
turned  to  the  Palms,  where  they  dined  in  state, 
and  made  no  reference,  while  the  women  were 
present,  to  the  events  of  the  day. 

The  moon  rose  late  that  night,  and  as  Hope 
watched  it,  from  where  she  sat  at  the  dinner-table 
facing  the  open  windows,  she  saw  the  figure  of 
a  man  standing  outlined  in  silhouette  upon  the 
edge  of  the  cliff.  He  was  dressed  in  the  uniform 
of  a  sailor,  and  the  moonlight  played  along  the 
barrel  of  a  rifle  upon  which  he  leaned,  motionless 
and  menacing,  like  a  sentry  on  a  rampart. 

Hope  opened  her  lips  to  speak,  and  then  closed 
them  again,  and  smiled  with  pleasurable  excite 
ment.  A  moment  later  King,  who  sat  on  her  right, 
called  one  of  the  servants  to  his  side  and  whis 
pered  some  instructions,  pointing  meanwhile  at  the 
wine  upon  the  table.  And  a  minute  after,  Hope 
saw  the  v,hite  figure  of  the  servant  cross  the  gar 
den  and  approach  the  sentinel.  She  saw  the  sen 
try  fling  his  gun  sharply  to  his  hip,  and  then,  after 

201 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

a  moment's  parley,  toss  it  up  to  his  shoulder  and 
disappear  from  sight  among  the  plants  of  the 
garden. 

The  men  did  not  leave  the  table  with  the  ladies, 
as  was  their  custom,  but  remained  in  the  dining- 
room,  and  drew  their  chairs  closer  together. 

Mr.  Langham  would  not  believe  that  the  down 
fall  of  the  Government  was  as  imminent  as  the 
others  believed  it  to  be.  It  was  only  after  much 
argument,  and  with  great  reluctance,  that  he  had 
even  allowed  King  to  arm  half  of  his  crew,  and 
to  place  them  on  guard  around  the  Palms.  Clay 
warned  him  that  in  the  disorder  that  followed 
every  successful  revolution,  the  homes  of  unpopu 
lar  members  of  the  Cabinet  were  often  burned, 
and  that  he  feared,  should  Mendoza  succeed,  and 
Alvarez  fall,  that  the  mob  might  possibly  vent 
Its  victorious  wrath  on  the  Palms  because  it  was 
the  home  of  the  alien,  who  had,  as  they  thought, 
robbed  the  country  of  the  iron  mines.  Mr.  Lang- 
ham  said  he  did  not  think  the  people  would  tramp 
five  miles  into  the  country  seeking  vengeance. 

There  was  an  American  man-of-war  lying  in 
the  harbor  of  Truxillo,  a  seaport  of  the  republic 
that  bounded  Olancho  on  the  south,  and  Clay  was 
in  favor  of  sending  to  her  captain  by  Weimer, 
the  Consul,  and  asking  him  to  anchor  off  Valencia, 
to  protect  American  interests.  The  run  would 

202 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

take  but  a  few  hours,  and  the  sight  of  the  vessel's 
white  hull  in  the  harbor  would,  he  thought,  have 
a  salutary  effect  upon  the  '-evolutionists.  But  Mr. 
Langham  said,  firmly,  that  he  would  not  ask  for 
help  until  he  needed  it. 

"Well,  I'm  sorry,"  said  Clay,  UI  should  very 
much  like  to  have  that  man-of-war  here.  How 
ever,  if  you  say  no,  we  will  try  to  get  along  with 
out  her.  But,  for  the  present,  I  think  you  had 
better  imagine  yourself  back  in  New  York,  and 
let  us  have  an  entirely  free  hand.  We've  gone 
too  far  to  drop  out,"  he  went  on,  laughing  at  the 
sight  of  Mr.  Langham's  gloomy  countenance. 
"We've  got  to  fight  them  now.  It's  against  hu 
man  nature  not  to  do  it." 

Mr.  Langham  looked  appealingly  at  his  son 
and  at  King. 

They  both  smiled  back  at  him  in  unanimous 
disapproval  of  his  policy  of  non-interference. 

"Oh,  very  well,"  he  said,  at  last.  "You  gentle 
men  can  go  ahead,  kill,  burn,  and  destroy  if  you 
wish.  But,  considering  the  fact  that  it  is  my  prop 
erty  you  are  all  fighting  about,  I  really  think  I 
might  have  something  to  say  in  the  matter."  Mr. 
Langham  gazed  about  him  helplessly,  and  shook 
his  head. 

"My  doctor  sends  me  down  here  from  a  quiet, 
happy  home,"  he  protested,  with  humorous  pathos, 

203 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"that  I  may  rest  and  get  away  from  excitement, 
and  here  I  am  with  armed  men  patrolling  my 
garden-paths,  with  a  lot  of  filibusters  plotting  at 
my  own  dinner-table,  and  a  civil  war  likely  to 
break  out,  entirely  on  my  account.  And  Dr.  Win 
ter  told  me  this  was  the  only  place  that  would 
cure  my  nervous  prostration!" 

Hope  joined  Clay  as  soon  as  the  men  left  the 
dining-room,  and  beckoned  him  to  the  farther  end 
of  the  veranda.  "Well,  what  is  it?"  she  said. 

"What  is  what?"  laughed  Clay.  He  seated 
himself  on  the  rail  of  the  veranda,  with  his  face 
to  the  avenue  and  the  driveway  leading  to  the 
house.  They  could  hear  the  others  from  the  back 
of  the  house,  and  the  voice  of  young  Langham, 
who  was  giving  an  imitation  of  MacWilliams,  and 
singing  with  peculiar  emphasis,  "There  is  no  place 
like  Home,  Sweet  Home." 

"Why  are  the  men  guarding  the  Palms,  and 
why  did  you  go  to  the  Plaza  Bolivar  this  morning 
at  daybreak?  Alice  says  you  left  them  there.  I 
want  to  know  what  it  means.  I  am  nearly  as  old 
as  Ted,  and  he  knows.  The  men  wouldn't  tell 
me." 

"What  men?" 

"King's  men  from  the  'Vesta'.  I  saw  some  of 
them  dodging  around  in  the  bushes,  and  I  went 
to  find  out  what  they  were  doing,  and  I  walked 

204 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

into  fifteen  of  them  at  your  office.  They  have 
hammocks  swung  all  over  the  veranda,  and  a  quick- 
firing  gun  made  fast  to  the  steps,  and  muskets 
stacked  all  about,  just  like  real  soldiers,  but  they 
wouldn't  tell  me  why." 

"We'll  put  you  in  the  carcel,"  said  Clay,  "if 
you  go  spying  on  our  forces.  Your  father  doesn't 
wish  you  to  know  anything  about  it,  but,  since 
you  have  found  it  out  for  yourself,  you  might  as 
well  know  what  little  there  is  to  know.  It's  the 
same  story.  Mendoza  is  getting  ready  to  start 
his  revolution,  or,  rather,  he  has  started  it." 

"Why  don't  you  stop  him?"  asked  Hope. 

"You  are  very  flattering,"  said  Clay.  "Even 
if  I  could  stop  him,  it's  not  my  business  to  do  it 
as  yet.  I  have  .to  wait  until  he  interferes  with  me, 
or  my  mines,  or  my  workmen.  Alvarez  is  the 
man  who  should  stop  him,  but  he  is  afraid.  We 
cannot  do  anything  until  he  makes  the  first  move. 
If  I  were  the  President,  I'd  have  Mendoza  shot 
to-morrow  morning  and  declare  martial  law.  Then 
I'd  arrest  everybody  I  didn't  like,  and  levy  forced 
loans  on  all  the  merchants,  and  sail  away  to  Paris 
and  live  happy  ever  after.  That's  what  Mendoza 
would  do  if  he  caught  any  one  plotting  against 
him.  And  that's  what  Alvarez  should  do,  too, 
according  to  his  lights,  if  he  had  the  courage  of 
his  convictions,  and  of  his  education.  I  like  to 

205 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

see  a  man  play  his  part  properly,  don't  you?  If 
you  are  an  emperor,  you  ought  to  conduct  yourself 
like  one,  as  our  German  friend  does.  Or  if  you 
are  a  prize-fighter,  you  ought  to  be  a  human  bull 
dog.  There's  no  such  thing  as  a  gentlemanly  pu 
gilist,  any  more  than  there  can  be  a  virtuous  burg 
lar.  And  if  you're  a  South  American  Dictator, 
you  can't  afford  to  be  squeamish  about  throwing 
your  enemies  into  jail  or  shooting  them  for  trea 
son.  The  way  to  dictate  is  to  dictate, — not  to 
hide  indoors  all  day  while  your  wife  plots  for 
you." 

"Does  she  do  that?"  asked  Hope.  "And  do 
you  think  she  will  be  in  danger — any  personal 
danger,  if  the  revolution  comes?" 

"Well,  she  is  very  unpopular,"  Clay  answered, 
"and  unjustly  so,  I  think.  But  it  would  be  better, 
perhaps,  for  her  if  she  went  as  quietly  as  possible, 
when  she  does  go." 

"Is  our  Captain  Stuart  in  danger,  too?"  the 
girl  continued,  anxiously.  "Alice  says  they  put 
up  placards  about  him  all  over  the  city  last  night. 
She  saw  his  men  tearing  them  down  as  she  was 
coming  home.  What  has  he  done?" 

"Nothing,"  Clay  answered,  shortly.  "He  hap 
pens  to  be  in  a  false  position,  that's  all.  They 
think  he  is  here  because  he  is  not  wanted  in  his 
own  country;  that  is  not  so.  That  is  not  the 

206 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

reason  he  remains  here.  When  he  was  even 
younger  than  he  is  now,  he  was  wild  and  foolish, 
and  spent  more  money  than  he  could  afford,  and 
lent  more  money  to  his  brother-officers,  I  have 
no  doubt,  than  they  ever  paid  back.  He  had  to 
leave  the  regiment  because  his  father  wouldn't 
pay  his  debts,  and  he  has  been  selling  his  sword 
for  the  last  three  years  to  one  or  another  king 
or  sultan  or  party  all  over  the  world,  in  China  and 
Madagascar,  and  later  in  Siam.  I  hope  you  will 
be  very  kind  to  Stuart  and  believe  well  of  him, 
and  that  you  will  listen  to  no  evil  against  him. 
Somewhere  in  England  Stuart  has  a  sister  like  you 
— about  your  age,  I  mean,  that  loves  him  very 
dearly,  and  a  father  whose  heart  aches  for  him, 
and  there  is  a  certain  royal  regiment  that  still 
drinks  his  health  with  pride.  He  is  a  lonely  little 
chap,  and  he  has  no  sense  of  humor  to  help  him 
out  of  his  difficulties,  but  he  is  a  very  brave  gentle 
man.  And  he  is  here  fighting  for  men  who  are 
not  worthy  to  hold  his  horse's  bridle,  because  of 
a  woman.  And  I  tell  you  this  because  you  will 
hear  many  lies  about  him — and  about  her.  He 
serves  her  with  the  same  sort  of  chivalric  devotion 
that  his  ancestors  felt  for  the  woman  whose  rib 
bons  they  tied  to  their  lances,  and  for  whom  they 
fought  in  the  lists." 

"I  understand,"  Hope  said,  softly.    "I  am  glad 
207 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

you  told  me.  I  shall  not  forget."  She  sighed 
and  shook  her  head.  "I  wish  they'd  let  you  man 
age  it  for  them,"  she  said. 

Clay  laughed.  "I  fear  my  executive  ability  is 
not  of  so  high  an  order;  besides,  as  I  haven't  been 
born  to  it,  my  conscience  might  trouble  me  if  I 
had  to  shoot  my  enemies  and  rob  the  worthy  mer 
chants.  I  had  better  stick  to  digging  holes  in  the 
ground.  That  is  all  I  seem  to  be  good  for." 

Hope  looked  up  at  him,  quickly,  in  surprise. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  she  demanded. 
There  was  a  tone  of  such  sharp  reproach  in  her 
voice  that  Clay  felt  himself  put  on  the  defensive. 

"I  mean  nothing  by  it,"  he  said.  "Your  sister 
and  I  had  a  talk  the  other  day  about  a  man's 
making  the  best  of  himself,  and  it  opened  my  eyes 
to — to  many  things.  It  was  a  very  healthy  les 
son." 

"It  could  not  have  been  a  very  healthy  lesson," 
Hope  replied,  severely,  "if  it  makes  you  speak  of 
your  work  slightingly,  as  you  did  then.  That 
didn't  sound  at  all  natural,  or  like  you.  It  sound 
ed  like  Alice.  Tell  me,  did  Alice  say  that?" 

The  pleasure  of  hearing  Hope  take  his  part 
against  himself  was  so  comforting  to  Clay  that 
he  hesitated  in  answering  in  order  to  enjoy  it  the 
longer.  Her  enthusiasm  touched  him  deeply,  and 
he  wondered  if  she  were  enthusiastic  because  she 

208 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

was  young,  or  because  she  was  sure  she  was  right, 
and  that  he  was  in  the  wrong. 

"It  started  this  way,"  Clay  began,  carefully. 
He  was  anxious  to  be  quite  fair  to  Miss  Langham, 
but  he  found  it  difficult  to  give  her  point  of  view 
correctly,  while  he  was  hungering  for  a  word  that 
would  re-establish  him  in  his  own  good  opinion. 
"Your  sister  said  she  did  not  think  very  much  of 
what  I  had  done,  but  she  explained  kindly  that 
she  hoped  for  better  things  from  me.  But  what 
troubles  me  is,  that  I  will  never  do  anything  much 
better  or  very  different  in  kind  from  the  work  I 
have  done  lately,  and  so  I  am  a  bit  discouraged 
about  it  in  consequence.  You  see,"  said  Clay, 
"when  I  come  to  die,  and  they  ask  me  what  I  have 
done  with  my  ten  fingers,  I  suppose  I  will  have 
to  say,  'Well,  I  built  such  and  such  railroads,  and 
I  dug  up  so  many  tons  of  ore,  and  opened  new 
countries,  and  helped  make  other  men  rich  '  I 
.an't  urge  in  my  behalf  that  I  happen  to  have  been 
so  fortunate  as  to  have  gained  the  good-will  of 
yourself  or  your  sister.  That  is  quite  reason 
enough  to  me,  perhaps,  for  having  lived,  but  it 
might  not  appeal  to  them.  I  want  to  feel  that  I 
have  accomplished  something  outside  of  myself- — 
something  that  will  remain  after  I  go.  Even  if  it 
is  only  a  breakwater  or  a  patent  coupling.  When 
I  am  dead  it  will  not  matter  to  any  one  what  I 

209 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

personally  was,  whether  I  was  a  bore  or  a  most 
charming  companion,  or  whether  1  had  red  hair 
or  blue.  It  is  the  work  that  will  tell.  And  when 
your  sister,  whose  judgment  is  the  judgment  of 
the  outside  world,  more  or  less,  says  that  the  work 
is  not  worth  while,  I  naturally  feel  a  bit  discour 
aged.  It  meant  so  much  to  me,  and  it  hurt  me 
to  find  it  meant  so  little  to  others." 

Hope  remained  silent  for  some  time,  but  the 
rigidity  of  her  attitude,  and  the  tightness  with 
which  she  pressed  her  lips  together,  showed  that 
her  mind  was  deeply  occupied.  They  both  sat 
silent  for  some  few  moments,  looking  down  toward 
the  distant  lights  of  the  city.  At  the  farther  end 
of  the  double  row  of  bushes  that  lined  the  avenue 
they  could  see  one  of  King's  sentries  passing  to 
and  fro  across  the  roadway,  a  long  black  shadow 
on  the  moonlit  road. 

"You  are  very  unfair  to  yourself,"  the  girl  said 
at  last,  "and  Alice  does  not  represent  the  opinion 
of  the  world,  only  of  a  very  small  part  of  it— 
her  own  little  world.  She  does  not  know  how 
little  it  is.  And  you  are  wrong  as  to  what  they 
will  ask  you  at  the  end.  What  will  they  care 
whether  you  built  railroads  or  painted  impression 
ist  pictures?  They  will  ask  you  'What  have  you 
made  of  yourself?  Have  you  been  fine,  and 
strong,  and  sincere?'  That  Is  what  they  will  ask. 

210 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

And  we  like  you  because  you  are  all  of  these 
things,  and  because  you  look  at  life  so  cheerfully, 
and  arc  unafraid.  We  do  not  like  men  because 
they  build  railroads,  or  because  they  are  prime- 
ministers.  We  like  them  for  what  they  are  them 
selves.  And  as  to  your  work!"  Hope  added,  and 
then  paused  in  eloquent  silence.  "I  think  it  is  a 
grand  work,  and  a  noble  work,  full  of  hardships 
and  self-sacrifices.  I  do  not  know  of  any  man  who 
has  done  more  with  his  life  than  you  have  done 
with  yours."  She  stopped  and  controlled  her  voice 
before  she  spoke  again.  "You  should  be  very 
proud,"  she  said. 

Clay  lowered  his  eyes  and  sat  silent,  looking 
down  the  roadway.  The  thought  that  the  girl 
felt  what  she  said  so  deeply,  and  that  the  fact  that 
she  had  said  it  meant  more  to  him  than  anything 
else  in  the  world  could  mean,  left  him  thrilled 
and  trembling.  He  wanted  to  reach  out  his  hand 
and  seize  both  of  hers,  and  tell  her  how  much  she 
was  to  him,  but  it  seemed  like  taking  advantage 
of  the  truths  of  a  confessional,  or  of  a  child's  inno 
cent  confidences. 

"No,  Miss  Hope,"  he  answered,  with  an  effort 
to  speak  lightly,  "I  wish  I  could  believe  you,  but 
I  know  myself  better  than  any  one  else  can,  and 
I  know  that  while  my  bridges  may  stand  exam 
ination — /  can't." 

211 


Soldiers   of  Fortune 

Hope  turned  and  looked  at  him  with  eyes  full 
of  such  sweet  meaning  that  he  was  forced  to  turn 
his  own  away. 

"I  could  trust  both,  I  think,"  the  girl  said. 

Clay  drew  a  quick,  deep  breath,  and  started  to 
his  feet,  as  though  he  had  thrown  off  the  restraint 
under  which  he  had  held  himself. 

It  was  not  a  girl,  but  a  woman  who  had  spoken 
then,  but,  though  he  turned  eagerly  toward  her, 
he  stood  with  his  head  bowed,  and  did  not  dare 
to  read  the  verdict  in  her  eyes. 

The  clatter  of  horses'  hoofs  coming  toward 
them  at  a  gallop  broke  in  rudely  upon  the  tense 
stillness  of  the  moment,  but  neither  noticed  it. 
"How  far,"  Clay  began,  in  a  strained  voice,  "how 
far,"  he  asked,  more  steadily,  "could  you  trust 
me?" 

Hope's  eyes  had  closed  for  an  instant,  and 
opened  again,  and  she  smiled  upon  him  with  a 
look  of  perfect  confidence  and  content.  The  beat 
of  the  horses'  hoofs  came  now  from  the  end  of 
the  driveway,  and  they  could  hear  the  men  at  the 
rear  of  the  house  pushing  back  their  chairs  and 
hurrying  toward  them.  Hope  raised  her  head, 
and  Clay  moved  toward  her  eagerly.  The  horses 
were  within  a  hundred  yards.  Before  Hope  could 
speak,  the  sentry's  voice  rang  out  in  a  hoarse, 
sharp  challenge,  like  an  alarm  of  fire  on  the  silent 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

night.  "Halt !"  they  heard  him  cry.  And  as  the 
horses  tore  past  him,  and  their  riders  did  not  turn 
to  look,  he  shouted  again,  "Halt,  damn  you !"  and 
fired.  The  flash  showed  a  splash  of  red  and  yel 
low  in  the  moonlight,  and  the  report  started  into 
life  hundreds  of  echoes  which  carried  it  far  out 
over  the  waters  of  the  harbor,  and  tossed  it  into 
sharp  angles,  and  distant  corners,  and  in  an  In 
stant  a  myriad  of  sounds  answered  it;  the  fright 
ened  cry  of  night-birds,  the  barking  of  dogs  in  the 
village  below,  and  the  footsteps  of  men  running. 

Clay  glanced  angrily  down  the  avenue,  and 
turned  beseechingly  to  Hope. 

"Go,"  she  said.  "See  what  is  wrong,"  and 
moved  away  as  though  she  already  felt  that  he 
could  act  more  freely  when  she  was  not  near 
him. 

The  two  horses  fell  back  on  their  haunches  be 
fore  the  steps,  and  MacWilliams  and  Stuart  tum 
bled  out  of  their  sadddles,  and  started,  running 
back  on  foot  in  the  direction  from  which  the  shot 
had  come,  tugging  at  their  revolvers. 

"Come  back,"  Clay  shouted  to  them.  "That's 
all  right.  He  was  only  obeying  orders.  That's 
one  of  King's  sentries." 

"Oh,  is  that  it?"  said  Stuart,  in  matter-of-fact 
tones,  as  he  turned  again  to  the  house.  "Good 
idea.  Tell  him  to  fire  lower  next  time.  And,  I 

213 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

say,"  he  went  on,  as  he  bowed  curtly  to  the  assem 
bled  company  on  the  veranda,  "since  you  have 
got  a  picket  out,  you  had  better  double  it.  And, 
Clay,  see  that  no  one  leaves  here  without  per 
mission — no  one.  That's  more  important,  even, 
than  keeping  them  out." 

"King,  will  you—   '  Clay  began. 

"All  right,  General,"  laughed  King,  and  walked 
away  to  meet  his  sailors,  who  came  running  up 
the  hill  in  great  anxiety. 

MacWilliams  had  not  opened  his  lips,  but  he 
was  bristling  with  importance,  and  his  effort  to 
appear  calm  and  soldierly,  like  Stuart,  told  more 
plainly  than  speech  that  he  was  the  bearer  of  some 
invaluable  secret.  The  sight  filled  young  Lang- 
ham  with  a  disquieting  fear  that  he  had  missed 
something. 

Stuart  looked  about  him,  and  pulled  briskly  at 
his  gauntlets.  King  and  his  sailors  were  grouped 
together  on  the  grass  before  the  house.  Mr. 
Langham  and  his  daughters,  and  Clay,  were  stand 
ing  on  the  steps,  and  the  servants  were  peering 
around  the  corners  of  the  house. 

Stuart  saluted  Mr.  Langham,  as  though  to  at 
tract  his  especial  attention,  and  then  addressed 
himself  In  a  low  tone  to  Clay. 

"It's  come,"  he  said.  "We've  been  in  it  since 
dinner-time,  and  we've  got  a  whole  night's  work 

214 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

cut  out  for  you."  He  was  laughing  with  excite 
ment,  and  paused  for  a  moment  to  gain  breath. 
"I'll  tell  you  the  worst  of  it  first.  Mendoza  has 
sent  word  to  Alvarez  that  he  wants  the  men  at 
the  mines  to  be  present  at  the  review  to-morrow. 
He  says  they  must  take  part.  He  wrote  a  most 
insolent  letter.  Alvarez  got  out  of  it  by  saying 
that  the  men  were  under  contract  to  you,  and  that 
you  must  give  your  permission  first.  Mendoza 
sent  me  word  that  if  you  would  not  let  the  men 
come,  he  would  go  out  and  fetch  them  In  him' 
self." 

"Indeed!"  growled  Clay.  "Kirkland  needs 
those  men  to-morrow  to  load  ore-cars  for  ThurS' 
day's  steamer.  He  can't  spare  them.  That  is  our 
answer,  and  it  happens  to  be  a  true  one,  but  if 
it  weren't  true,  if  to-morrow  was  All  Saints'  Day, 
and  the  men  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  lie  in  the 
sun  and  sleep,  Mendoza  couldn't  get  them.  And 
if  he  comes  to  take  them  to-morrow,  he'll  have 
to  bring  his  army  with  him  to  do  it.  And  he 
couldn't  do  it  then,  Mr.  Langham,"  Clay  cried, 
turning  to  that  gentleman,  "if  I  had  better  weap 
ons.  The  five  thousand  dollars  I  wanted  you  to 
spend  on  rifles,  sir,  two  months  ago,  might  have 
saved  you  several  millions  to-morrow." 

Clay's  words  seemed  to  bear  some  special  sig 
nificance  to  Stuart  and  MacWilliams,  for  they  both 

215 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

laughed,  and  Stuart  pushed  Clay  up  the  steps  be 
fore  him. 

"Come  inside,"  he  said.  "That  is  why  we  are 
here.  MacWilliams  has  found  out  where  Burke 
hid  his  shipment  of  arms.  We  are  going  to  try 
and  get  them  to-night."  He  hurried  into  the 
dining-room,  and  the  others  grouped  themselves 
about  the  table.  "Tell  them  about  it,  MacWil 
liams,"  Stuart  commanded.  "I  will  see  that  no 
one  overhears  you." 

MacWilliams  was  pushed  into  Mr.  Langham's 
place  at  the  head  of  the  long  table,  and  the  others 
dragged  their  chairs  up  close  around  him.  King 
put  the  candles  at  the  opposite  end  of  the  table, 
and  set  some  decanters  and  glasses  in  the  centre. 
"To  look  as  though  we  were  just  enjoying  our 
selves,"  he  explained,  pleasantly. 

Mr.  Langham,  with  his  fine,  delicate  fingers 
beating  nervously  on  the  table,  observed  the  scene 
as  an  on-looker,  rather  than  as  the  person  chiefly 
interested.  He  smiled  as  he  appreciated  the  in 
congruity  of  the  tableau,  and  the  contrast  which 
the  actors  presented  to  the  situation.  He  imagined 
how  much  it  would  amuse  his  contemporaries  of 
the  Union  Club,  at  home,  if  they  could  see  him 
then,  with  the  still,  tropical  night  outside,  the  can 
dles  reflected  on  the  polished  table  and  on  the 
angles  of  the  decanters,  and  showing  the  intent 

216 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

taces  of  the  young  girls  and  the  men  leaning  eager 
ly  forward  around  MacWilliams,  who  sat  con 
scious  and  embarrassed,  his  hair  dishevelled,  and 
his  face  covered  with  dust,  while  Stuart  paced  up 
and  down  in  the  shadow,  his  sabre  clanking  as  he 
walked. 

"Well,  it  happened  like  this,"  MacWilliams 
began,  nervously,  and  addressing  himself  to  Clay. 
"Stuart  and  I  put  Burke  safely  in  a  cell  by  him 
self.  It  was  one  of  the  old  ones  that  face  the 
street.  There  was  a  narrow  window  in  it,  about 
eight  feet  above  the  floor,  and  no  means  of  his 
reaching  it,  even  if  he  stood  on  a  chair.  We  sta 
tioned  two  troopers  before  the  door,  and  sent  out 
to  a  cafe  across  the  street  for  our  dinners.  I  fin 
ished  mine  about  nine  o'clock,  and  said  'Good 
night'  to  Stuart,  and  started  to  come  out  here. 
I  went  across  the  street  first,  however,  to  give  the 
restaurant  man  some  orders  about  Burke's  break 
fast.  It  is  a  narrow  street,  you  know,  with  a  long 
garden-wall  and  a  row  of  little  shops  on  one  side, 
and  with  the  jail-wall  taking  up  all  of  the  other 
side.  The  street  was  empty  when  I  left  the  jail, 
except  for  the  sentry  on  guard  In  front  of  it,  but 
just  as  I  was  leaving  the  restaurant  I  saw  one  of 
Stuart's  police  come  out  and  peer  up  and  down 
the  street  and  over  at  the  shops.  He  looked 
frightened  and  anxious,  and  as  I  wasn't  taking 

217 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

chances  on  anything,  I  stepped  back  Into  the  res 
taurant  and  watched  him  through  the  window. 
He  waited  until  the  sentry  had  turned  his  back, 
and  started  away  from  him  on  his  post,  and  then 
I  saw  him  drop  his  sabre  so  that  it  rang  on  the 
sidewalk.  He  was  standing,  I  noticed  then,  di 
rectly  under  the  third  window  from  the  door  of 
the  jail.  That  was  the  window  of  Burke's  cell. 
When  I  grasped  that  fact  I  got  out  my  gun  and 
walked  to  the  door  of  the  restaurant.  Just  as  I 
reached  it  a  piece  of  paper  shot  out  through  the 
bars  of  Burke's  cell  and  fell  at  the  policeman's 
feet,  and  he  stamped  his  boot  down  on  it  and 
looked  all  around  again  to  see  if  any  one  had  no 
ticed  him.  I  thought  that  was  my  cue,  and  I  ran 
across  the  street  with  my  gun  pointed,  and  shouted 
to  him  to  give  me  the  paper.  He  jumped  about 
a  foot  when  he  first  saw  me,  but  he  was  game, 
for  he  grabbed  up  the  paper  and  stuck  it  in  his 
mouth  and  began  to  chew  on  it.  I  was  right  up 
on  him  then,  and  I  hit  him  on  the  chin  with  my 
left  fist  and  knocked  him  down  against  the  wall, 
and  dropped  on  him  with  both  knees  and  choked 
him  till  I  made  him  spit  out  the  paper — and  two 
teeth,"  MacWilliams  added,  with  a  conscientious 
regard  for  details.  "The  sentry  turned  just  then 
and  came  at  me  with  his  bayonet,  but  I  put  my 
finger  to  my  lips,  and  that  surprised  him,  so  that 

218 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

he  didn't  know  just  what  to  do,  and  hesitated. 
You  see,  I  didn't  want  Burke  to  hear  the  row 
outside,  so  I  grabbed  my  policeman  by  the  collar 
and  pointed  to  the  jail-door,  and  the  sentry  ran 
back  and  brought  out  Stuart  and  the  guard.  Stu 
art  was  pretty  mad  when  he  saw  his  policeman 
all  bloody.  He  thought  it  would  prejudice  his 
other  men  against  us,  but  1  explained  out  loud 
that  the  man  had  been  insolent,  and  I  asked  Stuart 
to  take  us  both  to  his  private  room  for  a  hearing, 
and,  of  course,  when  I  told  him  what  had  hap 
pened,  he  wanted  to  punch  the  chap,  too.  We 
put  him  ourselves  into  a  cell  where  he  could  not 
communicate  with  any  one,  and  then  we  read  the 
paper.  Stuart  has  it,"  said  MacWilliams,  push 
ing  back  his  chair,  "and  he'll  tell  you  the  rest." 
There  was  a  pause,  in  which  every  one  seemed 
to  take  time  to  breathe,  and  then  a  chorus  of  ques 
tions  and  explanations.  King  lifted  his  glass  to 
MacWilliams,  and  nodded. 

"  'Well  done,   Condor,'  "  he  quoted,  smiling. 

"Yes,"  said  Clay,  tapping  the  younger  man  on 
the  shoulder  as  he  passed  him.  "That's  good 
work.  Now  show  us  the  paper,  Stuart." 

Stuart  pulled  the  candles  toward  him,  and 
spread  a  slip  of  paper  on  the  table. 

"Burke  did  this  up  in  one  of  those  paper  boxes 
for  wax  matches,"  he  explained,  "and  weighted  it 

219 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

with  a  twenty-dollar  gold  piece.  MacWilliams 
kept  the  gold  piece,  I  believe." 

"Going  to  use  it  for  a  scarf-pin,"  explained 
MacWilliams,  in  parenthesis.  "Sort  of  war- 
medal,  like  the  Chief's,"  he  added,  smiling. 

"This  is  in  Spanish,"  Stuart  explained.  "I  will 
translate  it.  It  is  not  addressed  to  any  one,  and 
it  is  not  signed,  but  it  was  evidently  written  to 
Mendoza,  and  we  know  it  is  in  Burke's  hand 
writing,  for  we  compared  it  with  some  notes  of 
his  that  we  took  from  him  before  he  was  locked 
up.  He  says,  'I  cannot  keep  the  appointment,  as 
I  have  been  arrested.'  The  line  that  follows 
here,"  Stuart  explained,  raising  his  head,  "has 
been  scratched  out,  but  we  spent  some  time  over  it, 
and  we  made  out  that  it  read:  'It  was  Mr.  Clay 
who  recognized  me,  and  ordered  my  arrest.  He 
is  the  best  man  the  others  have.  Watch  him.'  We 
think  he  rubbed  that  out  through  good  feeling 
toward  Clay.  There  seems  to  be  no  other  reason. 
He's  a  very  good  sort,  this  old  Burke,  I  think." 

"Well,  never  mind  him;  it  was  very  decent 
of  him,  anyway,"  said  Clay.  "Go  on.  Get  to 
Hecuba." 

"  'I  cannot  keep  the  appointment,  as  I  have 
been  arrested,'  "  repeated  Stuart.  "  'I  landed  the 
goods  last  night  in  safety.  I  could  not  come  in 
when  first  signalled,  as  the  wind  and  tide  were 

220 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

both  off  shore.  But  we  got  all  the  stuff  stored 
away  by  morning.  Your  agent  paid  me  in  full 
and  got  my  receipt.  Please  consider  this  as  the 
same  thing — as  the  equivalent' — it  is  difficult  to 
translate  it  exactly,"  commented  Stuart —  '  'as  the 
equivalent  of  the  receipt  I  was  to  have  given  when 
I  made  my  report  to-night.  I  sent  three  of  your 
guards  away  on  my  own  responsibility,  for  I  think 
more  than  that  number  might  attract  attention  to 
the  spot,  and  they  might  be  seen  from  the  ore- 
trains.'  That  is  the  point  of  the  note  for  us,  of 
course,"  Stuart  interrupted  himself  to  say.  "Burke 
adds,"  he  went  on,  "  'that  they  are  to  make  no 
effort  to  rescue  him,  as  he  is  quite  comfortable, 
and  is  willing  to  remain  in  the  carcel  until  they 
are  established  in  power.'  ' 

"Within  sight  of  the  ore-trains!"  exclaimed 
Clay.  "There  are  no  ore-trains  but  ours.  It  must 
be  along  the  line  of  the  road." 

"MacWilliams  says  he  knows  every  foot  of  land 
along  the  railroad,"  said  Stuart,  "and  he  is  sure 
the  place  Burke  means  is  the  old  fortress  on  the 
Platta  inlet,  because — " 

"It  is  the  only  place,"  interrupted  MacWilliams, 
"where  there  is  no  surf.  They  could  run  small 
boats  up  the  inlet  and  unload  in  smooth  water 
within  twenty  feet  of  the  ramparts;  and  another 
thing,  that  is  the  only  point  on  the  line  with  a 

221 


Soldiers   of  Fortune 

wagon  road  running  direct  from  it  to  the  Capital. 
It's  an  old  road,  and  hasn't  been  travelled  over 
for  years,  but  it  could  be  used.  No,"  he  added, 
as  though  answering  the  doubt  in  Clay's  mind, 
"there  is  no  other  place.  If  I  had  a  map  here  I 
could  show  you  in  a  minute;  where  the  beach  is 
level  there  is  a  jungle  between  it  and  the  road,  and 
wherever  there  is  open  country,  there  is  a  limestone 
formation  and  rocks  between  it  and  the  sea,  where 
no  boat  could  touch." 

"But  the  fortress  is  so  conspicuous,"  Clay  de 
murred;  "the  nearest  rampart  is  within  twenty  feet 
of  the  road.  Don't  you  remember  we  measured 
it  when  we  thought  of  laying  the  double  track?" 

"That  is  just  what  Burke  says,"  urged  Stuart. 
"That  is  the  reason  he  gives  for  leaving  only 
three  men  on  guard — 'I  think  more  than  that  num 
ber  might  attract  attention  to  the  spot,  as  they 
might  be  seen  from  the  ore-trains.'  ' 

"Have  you  told  any  one  of  this?"  Clay  asked. 
"What  have  you  done  so  far?" 

"We've  done  nothing,"  said  Stuart.  "We  lost 
our  nerve  when  we  found  out  how  much  we  knew, 
and  we  decided  we'd  better  leave  it  to  you." 

"Whatever  we  do  must  be  done  at  once,"  said 
Clay.  "They  will  come  for  the  arms  to-night, 
most  likely,  and  we  must  be  there  first.  I  agree 
with  you  entirely  about  the  place.  It  is  only  a 

222 


Soldiers   of   Fortune 

question  now  of  our  being  on  time.  There  are 
two  things  to  do.  The  first  thing  is,  to  keep  them 
from  getting  the  arms,  and  the  second  is,  if  we 
are  lucky,  to  secure  them  for  ourselves.  If  we 
can  pull  it  off  properly,  we  ought  to  have  those 
rifles  in  the  mines  before  midnight.  If  we  are 
hurried  or  surprised,  we  must  dump  them  off  the 
fort  into  the  sea."  Clay  laughed  and  looked  about 
him  at  the  men.  "We  are  only  following  out 
General  Bolivar's  saying  'When  you  want  arms 
take  them  from  the  enemy.'  Now,  there  are  three 
places  we  must  cover.  This  house,  first  of  all," 
he  went  on,  inclining  his  head  quickly  toward  the 
two  sisters,  "then  the  city,  and  the  mines.  Stuart's 
place,  of  course,  is  at  the  Palace.  King  must  take 
care  of  this  house  and  those  in  it,  and  MacWil- 
liams  and  Langham  and  I  must  look  after  the 
arms.  We  must  organize  two  parties,  and  they 
had  better  approach  the  fort  from  here  and  from 
the  mines  at  the  same  time.  I  will  need  you  to 
do  some  telegraphing  for  me,  Mac;  and,  King, 
I  must  ask  you  for  some  more  men  from  the 
yacht.  How  many  have  you?" 

King  answered  that  there  were  fifteen  men  still 
on  board,  ten  of  whom  would  be  of  service.  He 
added  that  they  were  all  well  equipped  for  fight 
ing. 

"I  believe  King's  a  pirate  in  business  hours," 
223 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

Clay  said,  smiling.  "All  right,  that's  good.  Now 
go  tell  ten  of  them  to  meet  me  at  the  round-house 
in  half  an  hour.  I  will  get  MacWilliams  to  tele 
graph  Kirkland  to  run  an  engine  and  flat  cars  to 
within  a  half  mile  of  the  fort  on  the  north,  and 
we  will  come  up  on  it  with  the  sailors  and  Ted, 
here,  from  the  south.  You  must  run  the  engine 
yourself,  MacWilliams,  and  perhaps  it  would  be 
better,  King,  if  your  men  joined  us  at  the  foot  of 
the  grounds  here  and  not  at  the  round-house. 
None  of  the  workmen  must  see  our  party  start. 
Do  you  agree  with  me?"  he  asked,  turning  to 
those  in  the  group  about  him.  "Has  anybody 
any  criticism  to  make?" 

Stuart  and  King  looked  at  one  another  ruefully 
and  laughed.  "I  don't  see  what  good  I  am  doing 
in  town,"  protested  Stuart.  "Yes,  and  I  don't  see 
where  I  come  in,  either,"  growled  King,  in  ag 
grieved  tones.  "These  youngsters  can't  do  it  all; 
besides  I  ought  to  have  charge  of  my  own  men." 

"Mutiny,"  said  Clay,  in  some  perplexity,  "rank 
mutiny.  Why,  it's  only  a  picnic.  There  are  but 
three  men  there.  We  don't  need  sixteen  white 
men  to  frighten  oft  three  Olanchoans." 

"I'll  tell  you  what  to  do,"  cried  Hope,  with 
the  air  of  having  discovered  a  plan  which  would 
be  acceptable  to  every  one,  "let's  all  go." 

"Well,  I  certainly  mean  to  go,"  said  Mr.  Lang- 
224 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

ham,  decidedly.  "So  some  one  else  must  stay  here. 
Ted,  you  will  have  to  look  after  your  sisters." 

The  son  and  heir  smiled  upon  his  parent  with 
a  look  of  affectionate  wonder,  and  shook  his  head 
at  him  in  fond  and  pitying  disapproval. 

"I'll  stay,"  said  King.  "I  have  never  seen  such 
ungallant  conduct.  Ladies,"  he  said,  "I  will  pro 
tect  your  lives  and  property,  and  we'll  invent  some 
thing  exciting  to  do  ourselves,  even  if  we  have  to 
bombard  the  Capital." 

The  men  bade  the  women  good-night,  and  left 
them  with  King  and  Mr.  Langham,  who  had  been 
persuaded  to  remain  overnight,  while  Stuart  rode 
off  to  acquaint  Alvarez  and  General  Rojas  with 
what  was  going  on. 


225 


XI 


THERE  was  no  chance  for  Clay  to  speak  to 
Hope  again,  though  he  felt  the  cruelty  of 
having  to  leave  her  with  everything  between  them 
in  this  interrupted  state.  But  their  friends  stood 
about  her,  interested  and  excited  over  this  expedi 
tion  of  smuggled  arms,  unconscious  of  the  great 
miracle  that  had  come  into  his  life  and  of  his  need 
to  speak  to  and  to  touch  the  woman  who  had 
wrought  it.  Clay  felt  how  much  more  binding 
than  the  laws  of  life  are  the  little  social  conven 
tions  that  must  be  observed  at  times,  even  though 
the  heart  is  leaping  with  joy  or  rucked  with  sor 
row.  He  stood  within  a  few  feet  of  the  woman 
he  loved,  wanting  to  cry  out  at  her  and  to  tell  her 
all  the  wonderful  things  which  he  had  learned 
were  true  for  the  first  time  that  night,  but  he  was 
forced  instead  to  keep  his  eyes  away  from  her  face 
and  to  laugh  and  answer  questions,  and  at  the  last 
to  go  away  content  with  having  held  her  hand  for 
an  instant,  and  to  have  heard  her  say  "good- 
luck." 

MacWilliams  called  Kirkland  to  the  office  at 
226 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

the  other  end  of  the  Company's  wire,  and  ex 
plained  the  situation  to  him.  He  was  instructed 
to  run  an  engine  and  freight-cars  to  a  point  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  north  of  the  fort,  and  to  wait 
there  until  he  heard  a  locomotive  whistle  or  pistol 
shots,  when  he  was  to  run  on  to  the  fort  as  quickly 
and  as  noiselessly  as  possible.  He  was  also  di 
rected  to  bring  with  him  as  many  of  the  American 
workmen  as  he  could  trust  to  keep  silent  concern 
ing  the  events  of  the  evening.  At  ten  o'clock  Mac- 
Williams  had  the  steam  up  in  a  locomotive,  and 
with  his  only  passenger-car  in  the  rear,  ran  it  out 
of  the  yard  and  stopped  the  train  at  the  point  near 
est  the  cars  where  ten  of  the  'Vesta's'  crew  were 
waiting.  The  sailors  had  no  idea  as  to  where  they 
were  going,  or  what  they  were  to  do,  but  the  fact 
that  they  had  all  been  given  arms  filled  them  with 
satisfaction,  and  they  huddled  together  at  the  bot 
tom  of  the  car  smoking  and  whispering,  and  radi 
ant  with  excitement  and  satisfaction. 

The  train  progressed  cautiously  until  It  was 
within  a  half  mile  below  the  fort,  when  Clay 
stopped  it,  and,  leaving  two  men  on  guard,  stepped 
off  the  remaining  distance  on  the  ties,  his  little 
band  following  noiselessly  behind  him  like  a  pro 
cession  of  ghosts  in  the  moonlight.  They  halted 
and  listened  from  time  to  time  as  they  drew  near 
the  ruins,  but  there  was  no  sound  except  the  beat- 

227 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

ing  of  the  waves  on  the  rocks  and  the  rustling  of 
the  sea-breeze  through  the  vines  and  creepers  about 
them. 

Clay  motioned  to  the  men  to  sit  down,  and, 
beckoning  to  MacWilliams,  directed  him  to  go 
on  ahead  and  reconnoitre. 

"If  you  fire  we  will  come  up,"  he  said.  "Get 
back  here  as  soon  as  you  can." 

"Aren't  you  going  to  make  sure  first  that  Kirk- 
land  is  on  the  other  side  of  the  fort?"  MacWil 
liams  whispered. 

Clay  replied  that  he  was  certain  Kirkland  had 
already  arrived.  "He  had  a  shorter  run  than 
ours,  and  he  wired  you  he  was  ready  to  start 
when  we  were,  didn't  he?"  MacWilliams  nodded. 

"Well,  then,  he  is  there.     I  can  count  on  Kirk." 

MacWilliams  pulled  at  his  heavy  boots  and  hid 
them  in  the  bushes,  with  his  helmet  over  them  to 
mark  the  spot.  "I  feel  as  though  I  was  going  to 
rob  a  bank,"  he  chuckled,  as  he  waved  his  hand 
and  crept  off  into  the  underbrush. 

For  the  first  few  moments  the  men  who  were 
left  behind  sat  silent,  but  as  the  minutes  wore  on, 
and  MacWilliams  made  no  sign,  they  grew  rest 
less,  and  shifted  their  positions,  and  began  to  whis 
per  together,  until  Clay  shook  his  head  at  them, 
and  there  was  silence  again  until  one  of  them,  in 
trying  not  to  cough,  almost  strangled,  and  the 

228 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

others  tittered  and  those  nearest  pummelled  him 
on  the  back. 

Clay  pulled  out  his  revolver,  and  after  spinning 
the  cylinder  under  his  finger-nail,  put  it  back  in  its 
holder  again,  and  the  men,  taking  this  as  an  en 
couraging  promise  of  immediate  action,  began  to 
examine  their  weapons  again  for  the  twentieth 
time,  and  there  was  a  chorus  of  short,  muffled 
clicks  as  triggers  were  drawn  back  and  cautiously 
lowered  and  levers  shot  into  place  and  caught 
again. 

One  of  the  men  farthest  down  the  track  raised 
his  arm,  and  all  turned  and  half  rose  as  they  saw 
MacWilliams  coming  toward  them  on  a  run,  leap 
ing  noiselessly  in  his  stocking  feet  from  tie  to  tie. 
He  dropped  on  his  knees  between  Clay  and  Lang- 
ham. 

"The  guns  are  there  all  right,"  he  whispered, 
panting,  "and  there  are  only  three  men  guarding 
them.  They  are  all  sitting  on  the  beach  smoking. 
I  hustled  around  the  fort  and  came  across  the 
whole  outfit  in  the  second  gallery.  It  looks  like 
a  row  of  coffins,  ten  coffins  and  about  twenty  little 
boxes  and  kegs.  I'm  sure  that  means  they  are 
coming  for  them  to-night.  They've  not  tried  to 
hide  them  nor  to  cover  them  up.  All  we've  got 
to  do  is  to  walk  down  on  the  guards  and  tell  them 
to  throw  up  their  hands.  It's  too  easy." 

229 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

Clay  jumped  to  his  feet.     "Come  on,"  he  said. 

"Wait  till  I  get  my  boots  on  first,"  begged 
MacWilliams.  "I  wouldn't  go  over  those  cinders 
again  in  my  bare  feet  for  all  the  buried  treasure 
in  the  Spanish  Main.  You  can  make  all  the  noise 
you  want;  the  waves  will  drown  it." 

With  MacWilliams  to  show  them  the  way,  the 
men  scrambled  up  the  outer  wall  of  the  fort  and 
crossed  the  moss-covered  ramparts  at  the  run. 
Below  them,  on  the  sandy  beach,  were  three  men 
sitting  around  a  driftwood  fire  that  had  sunk  to  a 
few  hot  ashes.  Clay  nodded  to  MacWilliams. 
"You  and  Ted  can  have  them,"  he  said.  "Go 
with  him,  Langham." 

The  sailors  levelled  their  rifles  at  the  three  lone 
ly  figures  on  the  beach  as  the  two  boys  slipped 
down  the  wall  and  fell  on  their  hands  and  feet 
in  the  sand  below,  and  then  crawled  up  to  within 
a  few  feet  of  where  the  men  were  sitting. 

As  MacWilliams  raised  his  revolver  one  of  the 
three,  who  was  cooking  something  over  the  fire, 
raised  his  head  and  with  a  yell  of  warning  flung 
himself  toward  his  rifle. 

"Up  with  your  hands!"  MacWilliams  shouted 
in  Spanish,  and  Langham,  running  in,  seized  the 
nearest  sentry  by  the  neck  and  shoved  his  face 
down  between  his  knees  into  the  sand. 

There  was  a  great  rattle  of  falling  stones  and 
230 


Langnam   shoved  his  face  down  between  his  knees  into  the  sand. 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

of  breaking  vines  as  the  sailors  tumbled  down  the 
side  of  the  fort,  and  in  a  half  minute's  time  the 
three  sentries  were  looking  with  angry,  frightened 
eyes  at  the  circle  of  armed  men  around  them. 

"Now  gag  them,"  said  Clay.  "Does  anybody 
here  know  how  to  gag  a  man?"  he  asked.  "I 
don't." 

"Better  make  him  tell  what  he  knows  first," 
suggested  Langham. 

But  the  Spaniards  were  too  terrified  at  what 
they  had  done,  or  at  what  they  had  failed  to  do, 
to  further  commit  themselves. 

"Tie  us  and  gag  us,"  one  of  them  begged.  "Let 
them  find  us  so.  It  is  the  kindest  thing  you  can 
do  for  us." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Clay.  "That  is  what 
I  wanted  to  know.  They  are  coming  to-night, 
then.  We  must  hurry." 

The  three  sentries  were  bound  and  hidden  at 
the  base  of  the  wall,  with  a  sailor  to  watch  them. 
He  was  a  young  man  with  a  high  sense  of  the 
importance  of  his  duties,  and  he  enlivened  the 
prisoners  by  poking  them  in  the  ribs  whenever 
they  moved. 

Clay  deemed  it  impossible  to  signal  Kirkland 
as  they  had  arranged  to  do,  as  they  could  not 
know  now  how  near  those  who  were  coming  for 
the  arms  might  be.  So  MacWilliams  was  sent 

231 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

back  for  his  engine,  and  a  few  minutes  later  they 
heard  it  rumble  heavily  past  the  fort  on  its  way 
to  bring  up  Kirkland  and  the  flat  cars.  Clay  ex 
plored  the  lower  chambers  of  the  fort  and  found 
the  boxes  as  MacWilliams  had  described  them. 
Ten  men,  with  some  effort,  could  lift  and  carry 
the  larger  coffin-shaped  boxes,  and  Clay  guessed 
that,  granting  their  contents  to  be  rifles,  there  must 
be  a  hundred  pieces  in  each  box,  and  that  there 
were  a  thousand  rifles  in  all. 

They  had  moved  half  of  the  boxes  to  the  side 
of  the  track  when  the  train  of  flat  cars  and  the 
two  engines  came  crawling  and  twisting  toward 
them,  between  the  walls  of  the  jungle,  like  a  great 
serpent,  with  no  light  about  it  but  the  glow  from 
the  hot  ashes  as  they  fell  between  the  rails. 
Thirty  men,  equally  divided  between  Irish  and 
negroes,  fell  off  the  flat  cars  before  the  wheels 
had  ceased  to  revolve,  and,  without  a  word  of 
direction,  began  loading  the  heavy  boxes  on  the 
train  and  passing  the  kegs  of  cartridges  from  hand 
to  hand  and  shoulder  to  shoulder.  The  sailors 
spread  out  up  the  road  that  led  to  the  Capital  to 
give  warning  in  case  the  enemy  approached,  but 
they  were  recalled  before  they  had  reason  to  give 
an  alarm,  and  in  a  half  hour  Burke's  entire  ship 
ment  of  arms  was  on  the  ore-cars,  the  men  who 
were  to  have  guarded  them  were  prisoners  in  the 

232 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

cab  of  the  engine,  and  both  trains  were  rushing 
at  full  speed  toward  the  mines.  On  arriving  there 
Kirkland's  train  was  switched  to  the  siding  that 
led  to  the  magazine  in  which  was  stored  the  rack- 
arock  and  dynamite  used  in  the  blasting.  By  mid 
night  all  of  the  boxes  were  safely  under  lock  in 
the  zinc  building,  and  the  number  of  the  men  who 
always  guarded  the  place  for  fear  of  fire  or  acci 
dent  was  doubled,  while  a  reserve,  composed  of 
Kirkland's  thirty  picked  men,  were  hidden  in  the 
surrounding  houses  and  engine-sheds. 

Before  Clay  left  he  had  one  of  the  boxes  broken 
open,  and  found  that  it  held  a  hundred  Mann- 
licher  rifles. 

"Good!"  he  said.  "I'd  give  a  thousand  dollars 
in  gold  if  I  could  bring  Mendoza  out  here  and 
show  him  his  own  men  armed  with  his  own  Mann- 
lichers  and  dying  for  a  shot  at  him.  How  old 
Burke  will  enjoy  this  when  he  hears  of  it!" 

The  party  from  the  Palms  returned  to  their 
engine  after  many  promises  of  reward  to  the  men 
for  their  work  "over-time,"  and  were  soon  flying 
back  with  their  hearts  as  light  as  the  smoke  above 
them. 

MacWilliams  slackened  speed  as  they  neared 
the  fort,  and  moved  up  cautiously  on  the  scene  of 
their  recent  victory,  but  a  warning  cry  from  Clay 
made  him  bring  his  engine  to  a  sharp  stop.  Many 

233 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

lights  were  flashing  over  the  ruins  and  they  could 
see  in  their  reflection  the  figures  of  men  running 
over  the  same  walls  on  which  the  lizards  had 
basked  in  undisturbed  peace  for  years. 

"They  look  like  a  swarm  of  hornets  after  some 
one  has  chucked  a  stone  through  their  nest," 
laughed  MacWilliams.  "What  shall  we  do 
now?  Go  back,  or  wait  here,  or  run  the  block 
ade?" 

"Oh,  ride  them  out,"  said  Langham;  "the  fam 
ily's  anxious,  and  I  want  to  tell  them  what's  hap 
pened.  Go  ahead." 

Clay  turned  to  the  sailors  in  the  car  behind 
them.  "Lie  down,  men,"  he  said.  "And  don't 
any  of  you  fire  unless  I  tell  you  to.  Let  them  do 
all  the  shooting.  This  isn't  our  fight  yet,  and, 
besides,  they  can't  hit  a  locomotive  standing  still, 
certainly  not  when  it's  going  at  full  speed." 

"Suppose  they've  torn  the  track  up?"  said  Mac- 
Williams,  grinning.  "We'd  look  sort  of  silly  fly 
ing  through  the  air." 

"Oh,  they've  not  sense  enough  to  think  of  that," 
said  Clay.  "Besides,  they  don't  know  it  was  we 
who  took  their  arms  away,  yet." 

MacWilliams  opened  the  throttle  gently,  and 
the  train  moved  slowly  forward,  gaining  speed  at 
each  revolution  of  the  wheels. 

As  the  noise  of  its  approach  beat  louder  and 
234 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

louder  on  the  air,  a  yell  of  disappointed  rage  and 
execration  rose  into  the  night  from  the  fort,  and 
a  mass  of  soldiers  swarmed  upon  the  track,  leap 
ing  up  and  down  and  shaking  the  rifles  in  their 
hands. 

"That  sounds  a  little  as  though  they  thought 
we  had  something  to  do  with  it,"  said  MacWil- 
liams,  grimly.  "If  they  don't  look  out  some  one 
will  get  hurt." 

There  was  a  flash  of  fire  from  where  the  mass 
of  men  stood,  followed  by  a  dozen  more  flashes, 
and  the  bullets  rattled  on  the  smokestack  and  upon 
the  boiler  of  the  engine. 

"Low  bridge,"  cried  MacWilliams,  with  a  fierce 
chuckle.  "Now,  watch  her!" 

He  threw  open  the  throttle  as  far  as  it  would 
go,  and  the  engine  answered  to  his  touch  like  a 
race-horse  to  the  whip.  It  seemed  to  spring  from 
the  track  into  the  air.  It  quivered  and  shook  like 
a  live  thing,  and  as  it  shot  in  between  the  soldiers 
they  fell  back  on  either  side,  and  MacWilliams 
leaned  far  out  of  his  cab-window  shaking  his  fist 
at  them. 

"You  got  left,  didn't  you  ?"  he  shouted.  "Thank 
you  for  the  Mannlichers." 

As  the  locomotive  rushed  out  of  the  jungle,  and 
passed  the  point  on  the  road  nearest  to  the  Palms, 
MacWilliams  loosened  three  long  triumphant 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

shrieks  from  his  whistle  and  the  sailors  stood  up 
and  cheered. 

"Let  them  shout,"  cried  Clay.  "Everybody 
will  have  to  know  now.  It's  begun  at  last,"  he 
said,  with  a  laugh  of  relief. 

"And  we  took  the  first  trick,"  said  MacWil- 
liams,  as  he  ran  his  engine  slowly  into  the  rail 
road  yard. 

The  whistles  of  the  engine  and  the  shouts  of 
the  sailors  had  carried  far  through  the  silence  of 
the  night,  and  as  the  men  came  hurrying  across 
the  lawn  to  the  Palms,  they  saw  all  of  those  who 
had  been  left  behind  grouped  on  the  veranda 
awaiting  them. 

"Do  the  conquering  heroes  come?"  shouted 
King. 

"They  do,"  young  Langham  cried,  joyously, 
"We've  got  all  their  arms,  and  they  shot  at  us. 
We've  been  under  fire!" 

"Are  any  of  you  hurt?"  asked  Miss  Langham, 
anxiously,  as  she  and  the  others  hurried  down  the 
steps  to  welcome  them,  while  those  of  the  'Vesta's' 
crew  who  had  been  left  behind  looked  at  their 
comrades  with  envy. 

"We  have  been  so  frightened  and  anxious  about 
you,"  said  Miss  Langham. 

Hope  held  out  her  hand  to  Clay  and  greeted 
him  with  a  quiet,  happy  smile,  that  was  in  con- 

236 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

trast  to  the  excitement  and  confusion  that  reigned 
about  them. 

"I  knew  you  would  come  back  safely,"  she  said. 
And  the  pressure  of  her  hand  seemed  to  add 
"to  me." 


237 


XII 

THE  day  of  the  review  rose  clear  and  warm, 
tempered  by  a  light  breeze  from  the  sea. 
As  it  was  a  fete  day,  the  harbor  wore  an  air  of 
unwonted  inactivity;  no  lighters  passed  heavily 
from  the  levees  to  the  merchantmen  at  anchor, 
and  the  warehouses  along  the  wharves  were  closed 
and  deserted.  A  thin  line  of  smoke  from  the 
funnels  of  the  'Vesta'  showed  that  her  fires  were 
burning,  and  the  fact  that  she  rode  on  a  single 
anchor  chain  seemed  to  promise  that  at  any  mo 
ment  she  might  slip  away  to  sea. 

As  Clay  was  finishing  his  coffee  two  notes  were 
brought  to  him  from  messengers  who  had  ridden 
out  that  morning,  and  who  sat  in  their  saddles 
looking  at  the  armed  force  around  the  office  with 
amused  intelligence. 

One  note  was  from  Mendoza,  and  said  he  had 
decided  not  to  call  out  the  regiment  at  the  mines, 
as  he  feared  their  long  absence  from  drill  would 
make  them  compare  unfavorably  with  their  com 
rades,  and  do  him  more  harm  than  credit.  "He 
is  afraid  of  them  since  last  night,"  was  Clay's 
comment,  as  he  passed  the  note  on  to  MacWil- 

238 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

liams.      "He's   quite   right,    they   might   do   him 
harm." 

The  second  note  was  from  Stuart.  He  said  the 
city  was  already  wide  awake  and  restless,  but 
whether  this  was  due  to  the  fact  that  it  was  a 
fete  day,  or  to  some  other  cause  which  would  dis 
close  itself  later,  he  could  not  tell.  Madame  Al 
varez,  the  afternoon  before,  while  riding  in  the 
Alameda,  had  been  insulted  by  a  group  of  men 
around  a  cafe,  who  had  risen  and  shouted  after 
her,  one  of  them  throwing  a  wine-glass  into  her 
lap  as  she  rode  past.  His  troopers  had  charged 
the  sidewalk  and  carried  off  six  of  the  men  to  the 
carcel.  He  and  Rojas  had  urged  the  President 
to  make  every  preparation  for  immediate  flight, 
to  have  the  horses  put  to  his  travelling  carriage, 
and  had  warned  him  when  at  the  review  to  take 
up  his  position  at  the  point  nearest  to  his  own 
body-guard,  and  as  far  as  possible  from  the  troops 
led  by  Mendoza.  Stuart  added  that  he  had  abso 
lute  confidence  in  the  former.  The  policeman  who 
had  attempted  to  carry  Burke's  note  to  Mendoza 
had  confessed  that  he  was  the  only  traitor  in  the 
camp,  and  that  he  had  tried  to  work  on  his  com 
rades  without  success.  Stuart  begged  Clay  to  join 
him  as  quickly  as  possible.  Clay  went  up  the  hill 
to  the  Palms,  and  after  consulting  with  Mr.  Lang- 
ham,  dictated  an  order  to  Kirkland,  instructing 

239 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

him  to  call  the  men  together  and  to  point  out  to 
them  how  much  better  their  condition  had  been 
since  they  had  entered  the  mines,  and  to  promise 
them  an  increase  of  wages  if  they  remained  faith 
ful  to  Mr.  Langham's  interests,  and  a  small  pen 
sion  to  any  one  who  might  be  injured  "from  any 
cause  whatsoever"  while  serving  him. 

"Tell  them,  if  they  are  loyal,  they  can  live  in 
their  shacks  rent  free  hereafter,"  wrote  Clay. 
"They  are  always  asking  for  that.  It's  a  cheap 
generosity,"  he  added  aloud  to  Mr.  Langham, 
"because  we've  never  been  able  to  collect  rent  from 
any  of  them  yet." 

At  noon  young  Langham  ordered  the  best  three 
horses  in  the  stables  to  be  brought  to  the  door 
of  the  Palms  for  Clay,  MacWilliams,  and  him 
self.  Clay's  last  words  to  King  were  to  have  the 
yacht  in  readiness  to  put  to  sea  when  he  telephoned 
him  to  do  so,  and  he  advised  the  \vomen  to  have 
their  dresses  and  more  valuable  possessions  packed 
ready  to  be  taken  on  board. 

"Don't  you  think  I  might  see  the  review  if  T 
went  on  horseback?"  Hope  asked.  "I  could  get 
sway  then,  if  there  should  be  any  trouble  * 

Clay  answered  with  a  look  of  such  alarm  and 
surprise  that  Hope  laughed. 

"See  the  review!  I  should  say  not,"  he  ex 
claimed.  "I  don't  even  want  Ted  to  be  there." 

240 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"Oh,  that's  always  the  way,"  said  Hope,  "I 
miss  everything.  I  think  I'll  come,  however,  any 
how.  The  servants  are  all  going,  and  I'll  go 
with  them  disguised  in  a  turban." 

As  the  men  neared  Valencia,  Clay  turned  in 
his  saddle,  and  asked  Langham  if  he  thought  his 
sister  would  really  venture  into  the  town. 

"She'd  better  not  let  me  catch  her,  if  she  does," 
the  fond  brother  replied. 

The  reviewing  party  left  the  Government  Pal 
ace  for  the  Alameda  at  three  o'clock,  President 
Alvarez  riding  on  horseback  in  advance,  and  Ma 
dame  Alvarez  sitting  in  the  State  carriage  with  one 
of  her  attendants,  and  with  Stuart's  troopers  gath 
ered  so  closely  about  her  that  the  men's  boots 
scraped  against  the  wheels,  and  their  numbers  hid 
her  almost  entirely  from  sight. 

The  great  square  in  which  the  evolutions  were 
to  take  place  was  lined  on  its  four  sides  by  the 
carriages  of  the  wealthy  Olanchoans.  except  at  the 
two  gates,  where  there  was  a  wide  space  left  open 
to  admit  the  soldiers.  The  branches  of  the  trees 
on  the  edges  of  the  bare  parade  ground  were  black 
with  men  and  boys,  and  the  balconies  and  roofs 
of  the  houses  that  faced  it  were  gay  with  stream 
ers  and  flags,  and  alive  with  women  wrapped  for 
the  occasion  in  their  colored  shawls.  Seated  on 
the  grass  between  the  carriages,  or  surging  up  and 

241 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

down  behind  them,  were  thousands  of  people,  each 
hurrying  to  gain  a  better  place  of  vantage,  or 
striving  to  hold  the  one  he  had,  and  forming  a 
restless,  turbulent  audience  in  which  all  individual 
cries  were  lost  in  a  great  murmur  of  laughter,  and 
calls,  and  cheers.  The  mass  knit  together,  and 
pressed  forward  as  the  President's  band  swung 
jauntily  into  the  square  and  halted  in  one  corner, 
and  a  shout  of  expectancy  went  up  from  the  trees 
and  housetops  as  the  President's  body-guard  en 
tered  at  the  lower  gate,  and  the  broken  place  in 
its  ranks  showed  that  it  was  escorting  the  State 
carriage.  The  troopers  fell  back  on  two  sides, 
and  the  carriage,  with  the  President  riding  at  its 
head,  passed  on,  and  took  up  a  position  in  front 
of  the  other  carriages,  and  close  to  one  of  the 
sides  of  the  hollow  square.  At  Stuart's  orders 
Clay,  MacWilliams,  and  Langham  had  pushed 
their  horses  into  the  rear  rank  of  cavalry,  and 
remained  wedged  between  the  troopers  within 
twenty  feet  of  where  Madame  Alvarez  was  sit 
ting.  She  was  very  white,  and  the  powder  on  her 
face  gave  her  an  added  and  unnatural  pallor.  As 
the  people  cheered  her  husband  and  herself  she 
raised  her  head  slightly  and  seemed  to  be  trying 
to  catch  any  sound  of  dissent  in  their  greeting,  or 
some  possible  undercurrent  of  disfavor,  but  the 
welcome  appeared  to  be  both  genuine  and  hearty, 

242 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

until  a  second  shout  smothered  it  completely  as 
the  figure  of  old  General  Rojas,  the  Vice-Presi- 
dent,  and  the  most  dearly  loved  by  the  common 
people,  came  through  the  gate  at  the  head  of  his 
regiment.  There  was  such  greeting  for  him  that 
the  welcome  to  the  President  seemed  mean  in  com 
parison,  and  it  was  with  an  embarrassment  which 
both  felt  that  the  two  men  drew  near  together, 
and  each  leaned  from  his  saddle  to  grasp  the 
other's  hand.  Madame  Alvarez  sank  back  rigidly 
on  her  cushions,  and  her  eyes  flashed  with  antici 
pation  and  excitement.  She  drew  her  mantilla  a 
little  closer  about  her  shoulders,  with  a  nervous 
shudder  as  though  she  were  cold.  Suddenly  the 
look  of  anxiety  in  her  eyes  changed  to  one  of 
annoyance,  and  she  beckoned  Clay  imperiously  to 
the  side  of  the  carriage. 

"Look,"  she  said,  pointing  across  the  square. 
"If  I  am  not  mistaken  that  is  Miss  Langham, 
Miss  Hope.  The  one  on  the  black  horse — it  must 
be  she,  for  none  of  the  native  ladies  ride.  It  is 
not  safe  for  her  to  be  here  alone.  Go,"  she  com 
manded,  "bring  her  here  to  me.  Put  her  next  to 
the  carriage,  or  perhaps  she  will  be  safer  with  you 
among  the  troopers." 

Clay  had  recognized  Hope  before  Madame 
Alvarez  had  finished  speaking,  and  dashed  oft  at 
a  gallop,  skirting  the  line  of  carriages.  Hope  had 

243 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

stopped  her  horse  beside  a  victoria,  and  was  talk 
ing  to  the  native  women  who  occupied  it,  and  who 
were  scandalized  at  her  appearance  in  a  public 
place  witb  no  one  but  a  groom  to  attend  her. 

"Why,  it's  the  same  thing  as  a  polo  match," 
protested  Hope,  as  Clay  pulled  up  angrily  beside 
the  victoria.  "I  always  ride  over  to  polo  alone 
at  Newport,  at  least  with  James,"  she  added,  nod 
ding  her  head  toward  the  servant. 

The  man  approached  Clay  and  touched  his  hat 
apologetically,  "Miss  Hope  would  come,  sir,"  he 
said,  "and  I  thought  I'd  better  be  with  her  than 
to  go  off  and  tell  Mr.  Langham,  sir.  I  knew  she 
wouldn't  wait  for  me." 

"I  asked  you  not  to  come,"  Clay  said  to  Hope, 
in  a  low  voice. 

"I  wanted  to  know  the  worst  at  once,"  she  an 
swered.  "I  was  anxious  about  Ted — and  you." 

"Well,  it  can't  be  helped  now,"  he  said.  "Come, 
we  must  hurry,  here  is  our  friend,  the  enemy." 
He  bowed  to  their  acquaintances  in  the  victoria 
and  they  trotted  briskly  off  to  the  side  of  the 
President's  carriage,  just  as  a  yell  arose  from  the 
crowd  that  made  all  the  other  shouts  which  had 
preceded  it  sound  like  the  cheers  of  children  at 
recess. 

"It  reminds  me  of  a  football  match,"  whispered 
young  Langham,  excitedly,  "when  the  teams  run 

244 


Soldiers   of  Fortune 

on  the  field.  Look  at  Alvarez  and  Rojas  watch 
ing  Mendoza." 

Mendoza  advanced  at  the  front  of  his  three 
troops  of  cavalry,  looking  neither  to  the  left  nor 
right,  and  by  no  sign  acknowledging  the  fierce  up 
roarious  greeting  of  the  people.  Close  behind  him 
came  his  chosen  band  of  cowboys  and  ruffians. 
They  were  the  best  equipped  and  least  disciplined 
soldiers  in  the  army,  and  were,  to  the  great  relief 
of  the  people,  seldom  seen  in  the  city,  but  were 
kept  moving  in  the  mountain  passes  and  along  the 
coast  line,  on  the  lookout  for  smugglers  with  whom 
they  were  on  the  most  friendly  terms.  They  were 
a  picturesque  body  of  blackguards,  in  their  high- 
topped  boots  and  silver-tipped  sombreros  and 
heavy,  gaudy  saddles,  but  the  shout  that  had  gone 
up  at  their  advance  was  due  as  much  to  the  fear 
they  inspired  as  to  any  great  love  for  them  or 
their  chief. 

"Now  all  the  chessmen  are  on  the  board,  and 
the  game  can  begin,"  said  Clay.  "It's  like  the 
scene  in  the  play,  where  each  man  has  his  sword 
at  another  man's  throat  and  no  one  dares  make 
the  first  move."  He  smiled  as  he  noted,  with  the 
eye  of  one  who  had  seen  Continental  troops  in 
action,  the  shuffling  steps  and  slovenly  carriage 
of  the  half-grown  soldiers  that  followed  Mendo- 
za's  cavalry  at  a  quick  step.  Stuart's  picked  men, 

245 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

over  whom  he  had  spent  many  hot  and  weary 
hours,  looked  like  a  troop  of  Life  Guardsmen  in 
comparison.  Clay  noted  their  superiority,  but  he 
also  saw  that  in  numbers  they  were  most  woefully 
at  a  disadvantage. 

It  was  a  brilliant  scene  for  so  modest  a  capital. 
The  sun  flashed  on  the  trappings  of  the  soldiers, 
on  the  lacquer  and  polished  metal  work  of  the 
carriages;  and  the  Parisian  gowns  of  their  occu 
pants  and  the  fluttering  flags  and  banners  filled  the 
air  with  color  and  movement,  while  back  of  all, 
framing  the  parade  ground  with  a  band  of  black, 
was  the  restless  mob  of  people  applauding  the  evo" 
lutions,  and  cheering  for  their  favorites,  Alvarez, 
Mendoza,  and  Rojas,  moved  by  an  excitement  that 
was  in  disturbing  contrast  to  the  easy  good-nature 
of  their  usual  manner. 

The  marching  and  countermarching  of  the 
troops  had  continued  with  spirit  for  some  time, 
and  there  was  a  halt  in  the  evolutions  which  left 
the  field  vacant,  except  for  the  presence  of  Men- 
doza's  cavalrymen,  who  were  moving  at  a  walk 
along  one  side  of  the  quadrangle.  Alvarez  and 
Vice-President  Rojas,  with  Stuart,  as  an  adjutant 
at  their  side,  were  sitting  their  horses  within  some 
fifty  yards  of  the  State  carriage  and  the  body 
guard.  Alvarez  made  a  conspicuous  contrast  in 
his  black  coat  and  high  hat  to  the  brilliant  greens 

246 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

and  reds  of  his  generals'  uniforms,  but  he  sat  his 
saddle  as  well  as  either  of  the  others,  and  his 
white  hair,  white  imperial  and  mustache,  and  the 
dignity  of  his  bearing  distinguished  him  above 
them  both.  Little  Stuart,  sitting  at  his  side,  with 
his  blue  eyes  glaring  from  under  his  white  helmet 
and  his  face  burned  to  almost  as  red  a  tint  as 
his  curly  hair,  looked  like  a  fierce  little  bull-dog 
in  comparison.  None  of  the  three  men  spoke  as 
they  sat  motionless  and  quite  alone  waiting  for  the 
next  movement  of  the  troops. 

It  proved  to  be  one  of  moment.  Even  before 
Mendoza  had  ridden  toward  them  with  his  sword 
at  salute,  Clay  gave  an  exclamation  of  enlighten 
ment  and  concern.  He  saw  that  the  men  who 
were  believed  to  be  devoted  to  Rojas,  had  been 
halted  and  left  standing  at  the  farthest  corner  of 
the  plaza,  nearly  two  hundred  yards  from  where 
the  President  had  taken  his  place,  that  Mendoza's 
infantry  surrounded  them  on  every  side,  and  that 
Mendoza's  cowboys,  who  had  been  walking  their 
horses,  had  wheeled  and  were  coming  up  with  an 
increasing  momentum,  a  flying  mass  of  horses  and 
men  directed  straight  at  the  President  himself. 

Mendoza  galloped  up  to  Alvarez  with  his  sword 
still  in  salute.  His  eyes  were  burning  with  excite 
ment  and  with  the  light  of  success.  No  one  but 
Stuart  and  Rojas  heard  his  words;  to  the  specta- 

247 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

tors  and  to  the  army  he  appeared  as  though  he 
was,  in  his  capacity  of  Commander-in-Chief,  de 
livering  some  brief  report,  or  asking  for  instruc 
tions. 

"Dr.  Alvarez,"  he  said,  "as  the  head  of  the 
army  I  arrest  you  for  high  treason;  you  have  plot 
ted  to  place  yourself  in  office  without  popular  elec 
tion.  You  are  also  accused  of  large  thefts  of 
public  funds.  I  must  ask  you  to  ride  with  me  to 
the  military  prison.  General  Rojas,  I  regret  that 
as  an  accomplice  of  the  President's,  you  must  come 
with  us  also.  I  will  explain  my  action  to  the  peo 
ple  when  you  are  safe  in  prison,  and  I  will  pro 
claim  martial  law.  If  your  troops  attempt  to  in 
terfere,  my  men  have  orders  to  fire  on  them  and 
you." 

Stuart  did  not  wait  for  his  sentence.  He  had 
heard  the  heavy  beat  of  the  cavalry  coming  up 
on  them  at  a  trot.  He  saw  the  ranks  open  and 
two  men  catch  at  each  bridle  rein  of  both  Alvarez 
and  Rojas  and  drag  them  on  with  them,  buried  in 
the  crush  of  horses  about  them,  and  swept  forward 
by  the  weight  and  impetus  of  the  moving  mass 
behind.  Stuart  dashed  off  to  the  State  carriage 
and  seized  the  nearest  of  the  horses  by  the  bridle. 
"To  the  Palace!"  he  shouted  to  his  men.  "Shoot 
any  one  who  tries  to  stop  you.  Forward,  at  a 
gallop,"  he  commanded. 

248 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

The  populace  had  not  discovered  what  had  oc 
curred  until  it  was  finished.  The  coup  d'etat  had 
been  long  considered  and  the  manner  in  which  it 
was  to  be  carried  out  carefully  planned.  The  cav 
alry  had  swept  across  the  parade  ground  and  up 
the  street  before  the  people  saw  that  they  carried 
Rojas  and  Alvarez  with  them.  The  regiment 
commanded  by  Rojas  found  itself  hemmed  in  be 
fore  and  behind  by  Mendoza's  two  regiments. 
They  were  greatly  outnumbered,  but  they  fired  a 
scattering  shot,  and  following  their  captured  lead 
er,  broke  through  the  line  around  them  and  pur 
sued  the  cavalry  toward  the  military  prison. 

It  was  impossible  to  tell  in  the  uproar  which 
followed  how  many  or  how  few  had  been  parties 
to  the  plot.  The  mob,  shrieking  and  shouting  and 
leaping  in  the  air,  swarmed  across  the  parade 
ground,  and  from  a  dozen  different  points  men 
rose  above  the  heads  of  the  people  and  harangued 
them  in  violent  speeches.  And  while  some  of  the 
soldiers  and  the  citizens  gathered  anxiously  about 
these  orators,  others  ran  through  the  city  calling 
for  the  rescue  of  the  President,  for  an  attack  on 
the  palace,  and  shrieking  "Long  live  the  Govern 
ment!"  and  "Long  live  the  Revolution!"  The 
State  carriage  raced  through  the  narrow  streets 
with  its  body-guard  galloping  around  it,  sweeping 
down  in  its  rush  stray  pedestrians,  and  scattering 

249 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

the  chairs  and  tables  in  front  of  the  cafes.  As  it 
dashed  up  the  long  avenue  of  the  palace,  Stuart 
called  his  men  back  and  ordered  them  to  shut  and 
barricade  the  great  iron  gates  and  to  guard  them 
against  the  coming  of  the  mob,  while  MacWil- 
liams  and  young  Langham  pulled  open  the  car 
riage  door  and  assisted  the  President's  wife  and 
her  terrified  companion  to  alight.  Madame  Al 
varez  was  trembling  with  excitement  as  she  leaned 
on  Langham's  arm,  but  she  showed  no  signs  of 
fear  in  her  face  or  in  her  manner. 

"Mr.  Clay  has  gone  to  bring  your  travelling 
carriage  to  the  rear  door,"  Langham  said.  "Stu 
art  tells  us  it  is  harnessed  and  ready.  You  will 
hurry,  please,  and  get  whatever  you  need  to 
carry  with  you.  We  will  see  you  safely  to  the 
coast." 

As  they  entered  the  hall,  and  were  ascending 
the  great  marble  stairway,  Hope  and  her  groom, 
who  had  followed  in  the  rear  of  the  cavalry,  came 
running  to  meet  them.  "I  got  in  by  the  back 
way,"  Hope  explained.  "The  streets  there  are 
all  deserted.  How  can  I  help  you?"  she  asked, 
eagerly. 

"By  leaving  me,"  cried  the  older  woman.  "Good 
God,  child,  have  I  not  enough  to  answer  for  with 
out  dragging  you  into  this?  Go  home  at  once 
through  the  botanical  garden,  and  then  by  way 

250 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

of  the  wharves.  That  part  of  the  city  is  still 
empty." 

"Where  are  your  servants;  why  are  they  not 
here  ?"  Hope  demanded  without  heeding  her.  The 
palace  was  strangely  empty;  no  footsteps  came 
running  to  greet  them,  no  doors  opened  or  shut 
as  they  hurried  to  Madame  Alvarez's  apartments. 
The  servants  of  the  household  had  fled  at  the  first 
sound  of  the  uproar  in  the  city,  and  the  dresses 
and  ornaments  scattered  on  the  floor  told  that  they 
had  not  gone  empty-handed.  The  woman  who 
had  accompanied  Madame  Alvarez  to  the  review 
sank  weeping  on  the  bed,  and  then,  as  the  shouts 
grew  suddenly  louder  and  more  near,  ran  to  hide 
herself  in  the  upper  stories  of  the  house.  Hope 
crossed  to  the  window  and  saw  a  great  mob  of 
soldiers  and  citizens  sweep  around  the  corner  and 
throw  themselves  against  the  iron  fence  of  the  pal 
ace.  "You  will  have  to  hurry,"  she  said.  "Re 
member,  you  are  risking  the  lives  of  those  boys 
by  your  delay." 

There  was  a  large  bed  in  the  room,  and  Ma 
dame  Alvarez  had  pulled  it  forward  and  was  bend 
ing  over  a  safe  that  had  opened  in  the  wall,  and 
which  had  been  hidden  by  the  head-board  of  the 
bed.  She  held  up  a  bundle  of  papers  in  her  hand, 
wrapped  in  a  leather  portfolio.  "Do  you  see 
these?"  she  cried,  "they  are  drafts  for  five  mill- 

251 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

ions  of  dollars."  She  tossed  them  back  Into  the 
safe  and  swung  the  door  shut. 

"You  are  a  witness.  I  do  not  take  them,"  she 
said. 

"I  don't  understand,"  Hope  answered,  "but 
hurry.  Have  you  everything  you  want — have  you 
your  jewels?" 

"Yes,"  the  woman  answered,  as  she  rose  to  her 
feet,  "they  are  mine." 

A  yell  more  loud  and  terrible  than  any  that  had 
gone  before  rose  from  the  garden  below,  and  there 
was  the  sound  of  iron  beating  against  iron,  and 
cries  of  rage  and  execration  from  a  great  multi 
tude. 

"I  will  not  go!"  the  Spanish  woman  cried,  sud 
denly.  "I  will  not  leave  Alvarez  to  that  mob. 
If  they  want  to  kill  me,  let  them  kill  me."  She 
threw  the  bag  that  held  her  jewels  on  the  bed, 
and  pushing  open  the  window  stepped  out  upon 
the  balcony.  She  was  conspicuous  in  her  black 
dress  against  the  yellow  stucco  of  the  wall,  and  in 
an  instant  the  mob  saw  her  and  a  mad  shout  of 
exultation  and  anger  rose  from  the  mass  that  beat 
and  crushed  itself  against  the  high  iron  railings 
of  the  garden.  Hope  caught  the  woman  by  the 
skirt  and  dragged  her  back.  "You  are  mad,"  she 
said.  "What  good  can  you  do  your  husband  here? 
Save  yourself  and  he  will  come  to  you  when  he 

252 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

can.  There  is  nothing  you  can  do  for  him  now; 
you  cannot  give  your  life  for  him.  You  are  wast 
ing  it,  and  you  are  risking  the  lives  of  the  men 
who  are  waiting  for  us  below.  Come,  I  tell  you." 

MacWilliams  left  Clay  waiting  beside  the  dili 
gence  and  ran  from  the  stable  through  the  empty 
house  and  down  the  marble  stairs  to  the  garden 
without  meeting  any  one  on  his  way.  He  saw  Stu 
art  helping  and  directing  his  men  to  barricade  the 
gates  with  iron  urns  and  garden  benches  and  sen 
try-boxes.  Outside  the  mob  were  firing  at  him 
with  their  revolvers,  and  calling  him  foul  names, 
but  Stuart  did  not  seem  to  hear  them.  He  greeted 
MacWilliams  with  a  cheerful  little  laugh.  "Well," 
he  asked,  "is  she  ready?" 

"No,  but  we  are.  Clay  and  I've  been  waiting 
there  for  five  minutes.  We  found  Miss  Hope's 
groom  and  sent  him  back  to  the  Palms  with  a 
message  to  King.  We  told  him  to  run  the  yacht 
to  Los  Bocos  and  lie  off  shore  until  we  came. 
He  is  to  take  her  on  down  the  coast  to  Truxillo, 
where  our  man-of-war  is  lying,  and  they  will  give 
her  shelter  as  a  political  refugee." 

"Why  doft't  you  drive  her  to  the  Palms  at 
once?"  demanded  Stuart,  anxiously,  "and  take  her 
on  board  the  yacht  there  ?  It  is  ten  miles  to  Bocos 
and  the  roads  are  very  bad." 

"Clay  says  we  could  never  get  her  through  the 
253 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

city,"  MacWilliams  answered.  "We  should  have 
to  fight  all  the  way.  But  the  city  to  the  south  is 
deserted,  and  by  going  out  by  the  back  roads,  we 
can  make  Bocos  by  ten  o'clock  to-night.  The 
yacht  should  reach  there  by  seven." 

"You  are  right;  go  back.  I  will  call  off  some 
of  my  men.  The  rest  must  hold  this  mob  back 
until  you  start;  then  I  will  follow  with  the  others. 
Where  is  Miss  Hope?" 

"We  don't  know.  Clay  is  frantic.  Her  groom 
says  she  is  somewhere  in  the  palace." 

"Hurry,"  Stuart  commanded.  "If  Mendoza 
gets  here  before  Madame  Alvarez  leaves,  it  will 
be  too  late." 

MacWilliams  sprang  up  the  steps  of  the  palace, 
and  Stuart,  calling  to  the  men  nearest  him  to  fol 
low,  started  after  him  on  a  run. 

As  Stuart  entered  the  palace  with  his  men  at 
his  heels,  Clay  was  hurrying  from  its  rear  entrance 
along  the  upper  hall,  and  Hope  and  Madame  Al 
varez  were  leaving  the  apartments  of  the  latter 
at  its  front.  They  met  at  the  top  of  the  main 
stairway  just  as  Stuart  put  his  foot  on  its  lowrer 
step.  The  young  Englishman  heard  the  clatter 
of  his  men  following  close  behind  him  and  leaped 
eagerly  forward.  Half  way  to  the  top  the  noise 
behind  him  ceased,  and  turning  his  head  quickly 
he  looked  back  over  his  shoulder  and  saw  that  the 

254 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

men  had  halted  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  and  stood 
huddled  together  in  disorder  looking  up  at  him. 
Stuart  glanced  over  their  heads  and  down  the  hall 
way  to  the  garden  beyond  to  see  if  they  were  fol 
lowed,  but  the  mob  still  fought  from  the  outer 
side  of  the  barricade.  He  waved  his  sword  im 
patiently  and  started  forward  again.  "Come  on!" 
he  shouted.  But  the  men  below  him  did  not  move. 
Stuart  halted  once  more  and  this  time  turned  about 
and  looked  down  upon  them  with  surprise  and 
anger.  There  was  not  one  of  them  he  could  not 
have  called  by  name.  He  knew  all  their  little 
troubles,  their  love-affairs,  even.  They  came  to 
him  for  comfort  and  advice,  and  to  beg  for  money. 
He  had  regarded  them  as  his  children,  and  he  was 
proud  of  them  as  soldiers  because  they  were  the 
work  of  his  hands. 

So,  instead  of  a  sharp  command,  he  asked, 
"What  is  it?"  in  surprise,  and  stared  at  them  won 
dering.  He  could  not  or  would  not  comprehend, 
even  though  he  saw  that  those  in  the  front  rank 
were  pushing  back  and  those  behind  were  urging 
them  forward.  The  muzzles  of  their  carbines 
were  directed  at  every  point,  and  on  their  faces 
fear  and  hate  and  cowardice  were  written  in  vary 
ing  likenesses. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  Stuart  demanded, 
sharply.  "What  are  you  waiting  for?" 

255 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

Clay  had  just  reached  the  top  of  the  stairs.  He 
saw  Madame  Alvarez  and  Hope  coming  toward 
him,  and  at  the  sight  of  Hope  he  gave  an  ex 
clamation  of  relief. 

Then  his  eyes  turned  and  fell  on  the  tableau 
below,  on  Stuart's  back,  as  he  stood  confronting 
the  men,  and  on  their  scowling  upturned  faces  and 
half-lifted  carbines.  Clay  had  lived  for  a  longer 
time  among  Spanish-Americans  than  had  the  Eng 
lish  subaltern,  or  else  he  was  the  quicker  of  the 
two  to  believe  in  evil  and  ingratitude,  for  he  gave 
a  cry  of  warning,  and  motioned  the  women  away. 

"Stuart!"  he  cried.  "Come  away;  for  God's 
sake,  what  are  you  doing?  Come  back!" 

The  Englishman  started  at  the  sound  of  his 
friend's  voice,  but  he  did  not  turn  his  head.  He 
began  to  descend  the  stairs  slowly,  a  step  at  a  time, 
staring  at  the  mob  so  fiercely  that  they  shrank 
back  before  the  look  of  wounded  pride  and  anger 
in  his  eyes.  Those  in  the  rear  raised  and  levelled 
their  rifles.  Without  taking  his  eyes  from  theirs, 
Stuart  drew  his  revolver,  and  with  his  sword 
swinging  from  its  wrist-strap,  pointed  his  weapon 
at  the  mass  below  him. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  he  demanded.  "Is 
this  mutiny?" 

A  voice  from  the  rear  of  the  crowd  of  men 
shrieked:  "Death  to  the  Spanish  woman.  Death 

256 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

to  all  traitors.  Long  live  Mendoza,"  and  the 
others  echoed  the  cry  in  chorus. 

Clay  sprang  down  the  broad  stairs  calling, 
"Come  to  me;"  but  before  he  could  reach  Stuart, 
a  woman's  voice  rang  out,  in  a  long  terrible  cry 
of  terror,  a  cry  that  was  neither  a  prayer  nor  an 
imprecation,  but  which  held  the  agony  of  both. 
Stuart  started,  and  looked  up  to  where  Madame 
Alvarez  had  thrown  herself  toward  him  across 
the  broad  balustrade  of  the  stairway.  She  was 
silent  with  fear,  and  her  hand  clutched  at  the  air, 
as  she  beckoned  wildly  to  him.  Stuart  stared  at 
her  with  a  troubled  smile  and  waved  his  empty 
hand  to  reassure  her.  The  movement  was  final, 
for  the  Tien  below,  freed  from  the  reproach  of  his 
eyes,  flung  up  their  carbines  and  fired,  some  wildly, 
without  placing  their  guns  at  rest,  and  others  stead 
ily  and  aiming  straight  at  his  heart. 

As  the  volley  rang  out  and  the  smoke  drifted 
up  the  great  staircase,  the  subaltern's  hands  tossed 
high  above  his  head,  his  body  sank  into  itself  and 
toppled  backward,  and,  like  a  tired  child  falling 
to  sleep,  the  defeated  soldier  of  fortune  dropped 
back  into  the  outstretched  arms  of  his  friend. 

Clay  lifted  him  upon  his  knee,  and  crushed  him 
closer  against  his  breast  with  one  arm,  while  he 
tore  with  his  free  hand  at  the  stock  about  the 
throat  and  pushed  his  fingers  in  between  the  but- 

257 


Soldiers  of   Fortune 

tons  of  the  tunic.  They  came  forth  again  wet  and 
colored  crimson. 

"Stuart!"  Clay  gasped.  "Stuart,  speak  to  me, 
look  at  me  !"  He  shook  the  body  in  his  arms  with 
fierce  roughness,  peering  into  the  face  that  rested 
on  his  shoulder,  as  though  he  could  command  the 
eyes  back  again  to  light  and  life.  "Don't  leave 
me!"  he  said.  "For  God's  sake,  old  man,  don't 
leave  me !" 

But  the  head  on  his  shoulder  only  sank  the 
closer  and  the  body  stiffened  in  his  arms.  Clay 
raised  his  eyes  and  saw  the  soldiers  still  standing, 
irresolute  and  appalled  at  what  they  had  done, 
and  awe-struck  at  the  sight  of  the  grief  before 
them. 

Clay  gave  a  cry  as  terrible  as  the  cry  of  a 
woman  who  has  seen  her  child  mangled  before 
her  eyes,  and  lowering  the  body  quickly  to  the 
steps,  he  ran  at  the  scattering  mass  below  him. 
As  he  came  they  fled  down  the  corridor,  shrieking 
and  calling  to  their  friends  to  throw  open  the  gates 
and  begging  them  to  admit  the  mob.  When  they 
reached  the  outer  porch  they  turned,  encouraged 
by  the  touch  of  numbers,  and  halted  to  fire  at  the 
man  who  still  followed  them. 

Clay  stopped,  with  a  look  in  his  eyes  which  no 
one  who  knew  them  had  ever  seen  there,  and 
smiled  with  pleasure  in  knowing  himself  a  master 

258 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

in  what  he  had  to  do.  And  at  each  report  of  his 
revolver  one  of  Stuart's  assassins  stumbled  and 
pitched  heavily  forward  on  his  face.  Then  he 
turned  and  walked  slowly  back  up  the  hall  to  the 
stairway  like  a  man  moving  in  his  sleep.  He 
neither  saw  nor  heard  the  bullets  that  bit  spitefully 
at  the  walls  about  him  and  rattled  among  the  glass 
pendants  of  the  great  chandeliers  above  his  head. 
When  he  came  to  the  step  on  which  the  body  lay 
he  stooped  and  picked  it  up  gently,  and  holding 
it  across  his  breast,  strode  on  up  the  stairs.  Mac- 
Williams  and  Langham  were  coming  toward  him, 
and  saw  the  helpless  figure  in  his  arms. 

"What  is  it?"  they  cried;  "is  he  wounded,  is 
he  hurt?" 

"He  is  dead,"  Clay  answered,  passing  on  with 
his  burden.  "Get  Hope  away." 

Madame  Alvarez  stood  with  the  girl's  arms 
about  her,  her  eyes  closed  and  her  figure  trem 
bling. 

"Let  me  be!"  she  moaned.  "Don't  touch  me; 
let  me  die.  My  God,  what  have  I  to  live  for 
now?"  She  shook  off  Hope's  supporting  arm,  and 
stood  before  them,  all  her  former  courage  gone, 
trembling  and  shivering  in  agony.  "I  do  not  care 
what  they  do  to  me !"  she  cried.  She  tore  her  lace 
mantilla  from  her  shoulders  and  threw  it  on  the 
floor.  "I  shall  not  leave  this  place.  He  is  dead. 

259 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

Why  should  I  go  ?  He  is  dead.  They  have  mur 
dered  him;  he  is  dead." 

"She  is  fainting,"  said  Hope.  Her  voice  was 
strained  and  hard.  To  her  brother  she  seemed 
to  have  grown  suddenly  much  older,  and  he  looked 
to  her  to  tell  him  what  to  do. 

"Take  hold  of  her,"  she  said.  "She  will  fall." 
The  woman  sank  back  into  the  arms  of  the  men, 
trembling  and  moaning  feebly.  "Now  carry  her 
to  the  carriage,"  said  Hope.  "She  has  fainted; 
it  is  better;  she  does  not  know  what  has  hap 
pened." 

Clay,  still  bearing  the  body  in  his  arms,  pushed 
open  the  first  door  that  stood  ajar  before  him  with 
his  foot.  It  opened  into  the  great  banqueting  hall 
of  the  palace,  but  he  could  not  choose.  He  had  to 
consider  now  the  safety  of  the  living,  whose  lives 
were  still  in  jeopardy. 

The  long  table  in  the  centre  of  the  hall  was  laid 
with  places  for  many  people,  for  it  had  been  pre 
pared  for  the  President  and  the  President's  guests, 
who  were  to  have  joined  with  him  in  celebrating 
the  successful  conclusion  of  the  review.  From  out 
side  the  light  of  the  sun,  which  \vas  just  sinking 
behind  the  mountains,  shone  dimly  upon  the  silver 
on  the  board,  on  the  glass  and  napery,  and  the 
massive  gilt  centre-pieces  filled  with  great  clusters 
of  fresh  flowers.  It  looked  as  though  the  servants 

260 


He  strode   on   up   the   stairs. 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

had  but  just  left  the  room.  Even  the  candles  had 
been  lit  in  readiness,  and  as  their  flames  wavered 
and  smoked  in  the  evening  breeze  they  cast  uncer 
tain  shadows  on  the  walls  and  showed  the  stern 
faces  of  the  soldier  presidents  frowning  down  on 
the  crowded  table  from  their  gilded  frames. 

There  was  a  great  leather  lounge  stretching 
along  one  side  of  the  hall,  and  Clay  moved  toward 
this  quickly  and  laid  his  burden  down.  He  was 
conscious  that  Hope  was  still  following  him.  Pic 
straightened  the  limbs  of  the  body  and  folded  the 
arms  across  the  breast  and  pressed  his  hand  for 
an  instant  on  the  cold  hands  of  his  friend,  and 
then  whispering  something  between  his  lips,  turned 
and  walked  hurriedly  away. 

Hope  confronted  him  in  the  doorway.  She  was 
sobbing  silently.  "Must  we  leave  him,"  she  plead 
ed,  "must  we  leave  him — like  this?" 

From  the  garden  there  came  the  sound  of  ham 
mers  ringing  on  the  iron  hinges,  and  a  great  crash 
of  noises  as  the  gate  fell  back  from  its  fastenings, 
and  the  mob  rushed  over  the  obstacles  upon  which 
it  had  fallen.  It  seemed  as  if  their  yells  of  exulta 
tion  and  anger  must  reach  even  the  ears  of  the 
dead  man. 

"They  are  calling  Mendoza,"  Clay  whispered, 
"he  must  be  with  them.  Come,  we  will  have  to 
run  for  our  lives  now." 

261 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

But  before  he  could  guess  what  Hope  was  about 
to  do,  or  could  prevent  her,  she  had  slipped  past 
him  and  picked  up  Stuart's  sword  that  had  fallen 
from  his  wrist  to  the  floor,  and  laid  it  on  the 
soldier's  body,  and  closed  his  hands  upon  its  hilt. 
She  glanced  quickly  about  her  as  though  looking 
for  something,  and  then  with  a  sob  of  relief  ran 
to  the  table,  and  sweeping  it  of  an  armful  of  its 
flowers,  stepped  swiftly  back  again  to  the  lounge 
and  heaped  them  upon  it. 

"Come,  for  God's  sake,  come!"  Clay  called  to 
her  in  a  whisper  from  the  door. 

Hope  stood  for  an  instant  staring  at  the  young 
Englishman  as  the  candle-light  flickered  over  his 
white  face,  and  then,  dropping  on  her  knees,  she 
pushed  back  the  curly  hair  from  about  the  boy's 
forehead  and  kissed  him.  Then,  without  turning 
to  look  again,  she  placed  her  hand  in  Clay's  and 
he  ran  with  her,  dragging  her  behind  him  down 
the  length  of  the  hall,  just  as  the  mob  entered  it 
on  the  floor  below  them  and  filled  the  palace  with 
their  shouts  of  triumph. 

As  the  sun  sank  lower  its  light  fell  more  dimly 
on  the  lonely  figure  in  the  vast  dining-hall,  and  as 
the  gloom  deepened  there,  the  candles  burned  with 
greater  brilliancy,  and  the  faces  of  the  portraits 
shone  more  clearly. 

They  seemed  to  be  staring  down  less  sternly  now 
262 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

upon  the  white  mortal  face  of  the  brother-in-arms 
who  had  just  joined  them. 

One  who  had  known  him  among  his  own  people 
would  have  seen  in  the  attitude  and  in  the  profile 
of  the  English  soldier  a  likeness  to  his  ancestors 
of  the  Crusades  who  lay  carved  in  stone  in  the 
village  church,  with  their  faces  turned  to  the  sky, 
their  faithful  hounds  waiting  at  their  feet,  and 
their  hands  pressed  upward  in  prayer. 

And  when,  a  moment  later,  the  half-crazed  mob 
of  men  and  boys  swept  into  the  great  room,  with 
Mendoza  at  their  head,  something  of  the  pathos 
of  the  young  Englishman's  death  in  his  foreign 
place  of  exile  must  have  touched  them,  for  they 
stopped  appalled  and  startled,  and  pressed  back 
upon  their  fellows,  with  eager  whispers.  The 
Spanish-American  General  strode  boldly  forward, 
but  his  eyes  lowered  before  the  calm,  white  face, 
and  either  because  the  lighted  candles  and  the  flow 
ers  awoke  in  him  some  memory  of  the  great 
Church  that  had  nursed  him,  or  because  the  jagged 
holes  in  the  soldier's  tunic  appealed  to  what  was 
bravest  in  him,  he  crossed  himself  quickly,  and 
then  raising  his  hands  slowly  to  his  visor,  lifted 
his  hat  and  pointed  with  it  to  the  door.  And  the 
mob,  without  once  looking  back  at  the  rich  treas 
ure  of  silver  on  the  table,  pushed  out  before  him, 
stepping  softly,  as  though  they  had  intruded  on  a 
shrine. 

263 


XIII 

THE  President's  travelling  carriage  was  a 
double-seated  diligence  covered  with  heavy 
hoods  and  with  places  on  the  box  for  two  men. 
Only  one  of  the  coachmen,  the  same  man  who 
had  driven  the  State  carriage  from  the  review, 
had  remained  at  the  stables.  As  he  knew  the 
roads  to  Los  Bocos,  Clay  ordered  him  up  to  the 
driver's  seat,  and  MacWilliams  climbed  into  the 
place  beside  him  after  first  storing  three  rifles  un 
der  the  lap-robe. 

Hope  pulled  open  the  leather  curtains  of  the 
carnage  and  found  Madame  Alvarez  where  the 
men  had  laid  her  upon  the  cushions,  weak  and 
hysterical.  The  girl  crept  in  beside  her,  and  lift 
ing  her  in  her  arms,  rested  the  older  woman's 
head  against  her  shoulder,  and  soothed  and  com 
forted  her  with  tenderness  and  sympathy. 

Clay  stopped  with  his  foot  in  the  stirrup  and 
looked  up  anxiously  at  Langham  who  was  already 
in  the  saddle. 

"Is  there  no  possible  way  of  getting  Hope  out 
of  this  and  back  to  the  Palms?"  he  asked. 

264 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"No,  it's  too  late.    This  is  the  only  way  now." 

Hope  opened  the  leather  curtains  and  looking 
out  shook  her  head  impatiently  at  Clay.  "I 
wouldn't  go  now  if  there  were  another  way,"  she 
said.  "I  couldn't  leave  her  like  this." 

"You're  delaying  the  game,  Clay,"  cried  Lang- 
ham,  warningly,  as  he  stuck  his  spurs  into  his 
pony's  side. 

The  people  in  the  diligence  lurched  forward  as 
the  horses  felt  the  lash  of  the  whip  and  strained 
against  the  harness,  and  then  plunged  ahead  at  a 
gallop  on  their  long  race  to  the  sea.  As  they  sped 
through  the  gardens,  the  stables  and  the  trees  hid 
them  from  the  sight  of  those  in  the  palace,  and  the 
turf,  upon  which  the  driver  had  turned  the  horses 
for  greater  safety,  deadened  the  sound  of  their 
flight. 

They  found  the  gates  of  the  botanical  gardens 
already  opened,  and  Clay,  in  the  street  outside, 
beckoning  them  on.  Without  waiting  for  the 
others  the  two  outriders  galloped  ahead  to  the 
first  cross  street,  looked  up  and  down  its  length, 
and  then,  in  evident  concern  at  what  they  saw  in 
the  distance,  motioned  the  driver  to  greater  speed, 
and  crossing  the  street  signalled  him  to  follow 
them.  At  the  next  corner  Clay  flung  himself  off 
his  pony,  and  throwing  the  bridle  to  Langham, 
ran  ahead  into  the  cross  street  on  foot,  and  after 

265 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

a  quick  glance  pointed  down  its  length  away  from 
the  heart  of  the  city  to  the  mountains. 

The  driver  turned  as  Clay  directed  him,  and 
when  the  man  found  that  his  face  was  fairly  set 
toward  the  goal  he  lashed  his  horses  recklessly 
through  the  narrow  street,  so  that  the  murmur  of 
the  mob  behind  them  grew  perceptibly  fainter  at 
each  leap  forward. 

The  noise  of  the  galloping  hoofs  brought  wom 
en  and  children  to  the  barred  windows  of  the 
houses,  but  no  men  stepped  into  the  road  to  stop 
their  progress,  and  those  few  they  met  running 
in  the  direction  of  the  palace  hastened  to  get  out 
of  their  way,  and  stood  with  their  backs  pressed 
against  the  walls  of  the  narrow  thoroughfare  look 
ing  after  them  with  wonder. 

Even  those  who  suspected  their  errand  were 
helpless  to  detain  them,  for  sooner  than  they  could 
raise  the  hue  and  cry  or  formulate  a  plan  of  action, 
the  carriage  had  passed  and  was  disappearing  in 
the  distance,  rocking  from  wheel  to  wheel  like  a 
ship  in  a  gale.  Two  men  who  were  so  bold  as 
to  start  to  follow,  stopped  abruptly  when  they 
saw  the  outriders  draw  rein  and  turn  in  their  sad 
dles  as  though  to  await  their  corning. 

Clay's  mind  was  torn  with  doubts,  and  his 
nerves  were  drawn  taut  like  the  strings  of  a 
violin.  Personal  danger  exhilarated  him,  but  this 

266 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

chance  of  harm  to  others  who  were  helpless,  ex 
cept  for  him,  depressed  his  spirit  with  anxiety. 
He  experienced  in  his  own  mind  all  the  nervous 
fears  of  a  thief  who  sees  an  officer  in  every  pass 
ing  citizen,  and  at  one  moment  he  warned  the 
driver  to  move  more  circumspectly,  and  so  avert 
suspicion,  and  the  next  urged  him  into  more  des 
perate  bursts  of  speed.  In  his  fancy  every  cross 
street  threatened  an  ambush,  and  as  he  cantered 
now  before  and  now  behind  the  carriage,  he 
wished  that  he  was  a  multitude  of  men  who  could 
encompass  it  entirely  and  hide  it. 

But  the  solid  streets  soon  gave  way  to  open 
places,  and  low  mud  cabins,  where  the  horses' 
hoofs  beat  on  a  sun-baked  road,  and  where  the 
inhabitants  sat  lazily  before  the  door  in  the  fading 
light,  with  no  knowledge  of  the  changes  that  the 
day  had  wrought  in  the  city,  and  with  only  a 
moment's  curious  interest  in  the  hooded  carriage, 
and  the  grim,  white-faced  foreigners  who  guard 
ed  it. 

Clay  turned  his  pony  into  a  trot  at  Langham's 
side.  His  face  was  pale  and  drawn. 

As  the  danger  of  immediate  pursuit  and  cap 
ture  grew  less,  the  carriage  had  slackened  its  pace, 
and  for  some  minutes  the  outriders  galloped  on 
together  side  by  side  in  silence.  But  the  same 
thought  was  in  the  mind  of  each,  and  when  Lang- 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

ham  spoke  it  was  as  though  he  were  continuing 
where  he  had  but  just  been  interrupted. 

He  laid  his  hand  gently  on  Clay's  arm.  He 
did  not  turn  his  face  toward  him,  and  his  eyes 
were  still  peering  into  the  shadows  before  them. 
"Tell  me?"  he  asked. 

"He  was  coming  up  the  stairs,"  Clay  answered. 
He  spoke  in  so  low  a  voice  that  Langham  had  to 
lean  from  his  saddle  to  hear  him.  "They  were 
close  behind;  but  when  they  saw  her  they  stopped 
and  refused  to  go  farther.  I  called  to  him  to 
come  away,  but  he  would  not  understand.  They 
killed  him  before  he  really  understood  what  they 
meant  to  do.  He  was  dead  almost  before  I 
reached  him.  He  died  in  my  arms."  There  was 
a  long  pause.  "I  wonder  if  he  knows  that?" 
Clay  said. 

Langham  sat  erect  in  the  saddle  again  and  drew 
a  short  breath.  "I  wish  he  could  have  known  how 
he  helped  me,"  he  whispered,  "how  much  just 
knowing  him  helped  me." 

Clay  bowed  his  head  to  the  boy  as  though  he 
were  thanking  him.  "His  was  the  gentlest  soul 
I  ever  knew,"  he  said. 

"That's  what  I  wanted  to  say,"  Langham  an 
swered.  "We  will  let  that  be  his  epitaph,"  and 
touching  his  spur  to  his  horse  he  galloped  on  ahead 
and  left  Clay  riding  alone. 

368 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

Langham  had  proceeded  for  nearly  a  mile  when 
he  saw  the  forest  opening  before  them,  and  at  the 
sight  he  gave  a  shout  of  relief,  but  almost  at  the 
same  instant  he  pulled  his  pony  back  on  his 
haunches  and  whirling  him  about,  sprang  back  to 
the  carriage  with  a  cry  of  warning. 

"There  are  soldiers  ahead  of  us,"  he  cried. 
"Did  you  know  it?"  he  demanded  of  the  driver. 
"Did  you  lie  to  me?  Turn  back." 

"He  can't  turn  back,"  MacWilliams  answered. 
"They  have  seen  us.  They  are  only  the  custom 
officers  at  the  city  limits.  They  know  nothing. 
Go  on."  He  reached  forward  and  catching  the 
reins  dragged  the  horses  down  into  a  walk.  Then 
he  handed  the  reins  back  to  the  driver  with  a 
shake  of  the  head. 

"If  you  know  these  roads  as  well  as  you  say 
you  do,  you  want  to  keep  us  out  of  the  way  of 
soldiers,"  he  said.  "If  we  fall  into  a  trap  you'll 
be  the  first  man  shot  on  either  side." 

A  sentry  strolled  lazily  out  into  the  road  drag 
ging  his  gun  after  him  by  the  bayonet,  and  raised 
his  hand  for  them  to  halt.  His  captain  followed 
him  from  the  post-house  throwing  away  a  cigarette 
as  he  came,  and  saluted  MacWilliams  on  the  box 
and  bowed  to  the  two  riders  in  the  background. 
In  his  right  hand  he  held  one  of  the  long  iron 
rods  with  which  the  collectors  of  the  city's  taxes 

269 


Soldiers   of  Fortune 

were  wont  to  pierce  the  bundles  and  packs,  and 
even  the  carriage  cushions  of  those  who  entered 
the  city  limits  from  the  coast,  and  who  might  be 
suspected  of  smuggling. 

"Whose  carriage  is  this,  and  where  is  it  going?" 
he  asked. 

As  the  speed  of  the  diligence  slackened,  Hope 
put  her  head  out  of  the  curtains,  and  as  she  sur 
veyed  the  soldier  with  apparent  surprise,  she 
turned  to  her  brother. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  she  asked.  "What 
are  we  waiting  for?" 

"We  are  going  to  the  Hacienda  of  Senor  Pala- 
cio,"  MacWTilliams  said,  in  answer  to  the  offi 
cer.  "The  driver  thinks  that  this  is  the  road, 
but  I  say  we  should  have  taken  the  one  to  the 
right." 

"No,  this  is  the  road  to  Senor  Palacio's  planta 
tion,"  the  officer  answered,  "but  you  cannot  leave 
the  city  without  a  pass  signed  by  General  Men- 
doza.  That  is  the  order  we  received  this  morn 
ing.  Have  you  such  a  pass?" 

"Certainly  not,"  Clay  answered,  warmly.  "This 
is  the  carriage  of  an  American,  the  president  of 
the  mines.  His  daughters  are  inside  and  on  their 
way  to  visit  the  residence  of  Senor  Palacio.  They 
are  foreigners — Americans.  We  are  all  foreign 
ers,  and  we  have  a  perfect  right  to  leave  the  city 

270 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

when  we  choose.  You  can  only  stop  us  when  we 
enter  it." 

The  officer  looked  uncertainly  from  Clay  to 
Hope  and  up  at  the  driver  on  the  box.  His  eyes 
fell  upon  the  heavy  brass  mountings  of  the  har 
ness.  They  bore  the  arms  of  Olancho.  He 
wheeled  sharply  and  called  to  his  men  inside  the 
post-house,  and  they  stepped  out  from  the  ve 
randa  and  spread  themselves  leisurely  across  the 
road. 

"Ride  him  down,  Clay,"  Langham  muttered, 
in  a  whisper.  The  officer  did  not  understand  the 
words,  but  he  saw  Clay  gather  the  reins  tighter 
in  his  hands  and  he  stepped  back  quickly  to  the 
safety  of  the  porch,  and  from  that  ground  of 
vantage  smiled  pleasantly. 

"Pardon,"  he  said,  "there  is  no  need  for  blows 
when  one  is  rich  enough  to  pay.  A  little  some 
thing  for  myself  and  a  drink  for  my  brave  fellows, 
and  you  can  go  where  you  please." 

"Damned  brigands,"  growled  Langham,  sav 
agely. 

"Not  at  all,"  Clay  answered.  "He  is  an  officer 
and  a  gentleman.  I  have  no  money  with  me,"  he 
said,  in  Spanish,  addressing  the  officer,  "but  be 
tween  caballeros  a  word  of  honor  is  sufficient.  I 
shall  be  returning  this  way  to-morrow  morning, 
and  I  will  bring  a  few  hundred  sols  from  Senor 

271 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

Palaclo  for  you  and  your  men;  but  if  we  are  fol 
lowed  you  will  get  nothing,  and  you  must  have 
forgotten  in  the  mean  time  that  you  have  seen  us 
pass." 

There  was  a  murmur  Inside  the  carriage,  and 
Hope's  face  disapppeared  from  between  the  cur 
tains  to  reappear  again  almost  immediately.  She 
beckoned  to  the  officer  with  her  hand,  and  the 
men  saw  that  she  held  between  her  thumb  and 
little  finger  a  diamond  ring  of  size  and  brilliancy. 
She  moved  it  so  that  it  flashed  in  the  light  of  the 
guard  lantern  above  the  post-house. 

"My  sister  tells  me  you  shall  be  given  this  to 
morrow  morning,"  Hope  said,  "if  we  are  not  fol 
lowed." 

The  man's  eyes  laughed  with  pleasure.  He 
swept  his  sombrero  to  the  ground. 

"I  am  your  servant,  Senorita,"  he  said.  "Gen 
tlemen,"  he  cried,  gayly,  turning  to  Clay,  "if  you 
wish  it,  I  will  accompany  you  with  my  men.  Yes, 
I  will  leave  word  that  I  have  gone  in  the  sudden 
pursuit  of  smugglers;  or  I  will  remain  here  as  you 
wish,  and  send  those  who  may  follow  back  again." 

"You  are  most  gracious,  sir,"  said  Clay.  "It 
is  always  a  pleasure  to  meet  with  a  gentleman 
and  a  philosopher.  We  prefer  to  travel  without 
an  escort,  and  remember,  you  have  seen  nothing 
and  heard  nothing."  He  leaned  from  the  saddle, 

272 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

and  touched  the  officer  on  the  breast.  "That  ring 
is  worth  a  king's  ransom." 

"Or  a  president's,"  muttered  the  man,  smiling. 
"Let  the  American  ladies  pass,"  he  commanded. 

The  soldiers  scattered  as  the  whip  fell,  and  the 
horses  once  more  leaped  forward,  and  as  the  car 
riage  entered  the  forest,  Clay  looked  back  and  saw 
the  officer  exhaling  the  smoke  of  a  fresh  cigarette, 
with  the  satisfaction  of  one  who  enjoys  a  clean 
conscience  and  a  sense  of  duty  well  performed. 

The  road  through  the  forest  was  narrow  and 
uneven,  and  as  the  horses  fell  into  a  trot  the  men 
on  horseback  closed  up  together  behind  the  car 
riage. 

"Do  you  think  that  road-agent  will  keep  his 
word?"  Langham  asked. 

"Yes;  he  has  nothing  to  win  by  telling  the 
truth,"  Clay  answered.  "He  can  say  he  saw  a 
party  of  foreigners,  Americans,  driving  in  the 
direction  of  Palacio's  coffee  plantation.  That  lets 
him  out,  and  in  the  morning  he  knows  he  can 
levy  on  us  for  the  gate  money.  I  am  not  so  much 
afraid  of  being  overtaken  as  I  am  that  King  may 
make  a  mistake  and  not  get  to  Bocos  on  time. 
We  ought  to  reach  there,  if  the  carriage  holds 
together,  by  eleven.  King  should  be  there  by 
eight  o'clock,  and  the  yacht  ought  to  make  the 
run  to  Truxillo  in  three  hours.  But  we  shall  not 

273 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

be  able  to  get  back  to  the  city  before  five  to-mor 
row  morning.  I  suppose  your  family  will  be  wild 
about  Hope.  We  didn't  know  where  she  was 
when  we  sent  the  groom  back  to  King." 

"Do  you  think  that  driver  is  taking  us  the  right 
way?"  Langham  asked,  after  a  pause. 

"He'd  better.  He  knows  it  well  enough.  He 
was  through  the  last  revolution,  and  carried  mes 
sages  from  Los  Bocos  to  the  city  on  foot  for  two 
months.  He  has  covered  every  trail  on  the  way, 
and  if  he  goes  wrong  he  knows  what  will  happen 
to  him." 

"And  Los  Bocos — it  is  a  village,  isn't  it,  and 
the  landing  must  be  in  sight  of  the  Custom-house?" 

"The  village  lies  some  distance  back  from  the 
shore,  and  the  only  house  on  the  beach  is  the 
Custom-house  itself;  but  every  one  will  be  asleep 
by  the  time  we  get  there,  and  it  will  take  us  only 
a  minute  to  hand  her  into  the  launch.  If  there 
should  be  a  guard  there,  King  will  have  fixed  them 
one  way  or  another  by  the  time  we  arrive.  Any 
how,  there  is  no  need  of  looking  for  trouble  that 
far  ahead.  There  is  enough  to  worry  about  in 
between.  We  haven't  got  there  yet." 

The  moon  rose  grandly  a  few  minutes  later, 
and  flooded  the  forest  with  light  so  that  the  open 
places  were  as  clear  as  day.  It  threw  strange 
shadows  across  the  trail,  and  turned  the  rocks  and 

274 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

fallen  trees  into  figures  of  men  crouching  or  stand 
ing  upright  with  uplifted  arms.  They  were  so 
like  to  them  that  Clay  and  Langham  flung  their 
carbines  to  their  shoulders  again  and  again,  and 
pointed  them  at  some  black  object  that  turned  as 
they  advanced  into  wood  or  stone.  From  the  for 
est  they  came  to  little  streams  and  broad  shallow 
rivers  where  the  rocks  in  the  fording  places  churned 
the  water  into  white  masses  of  foam,  and  the 
horses  kicked  up  showers  of  spray  as  they  made 
their  way,  slipping  and  stumbling,  against  the  cur 
rent.  It  was  a  silent  pilgrim  age,  and  never  for 
a  moment  did  the  strain  slacken  or  the  men  draw 
rein.  Sometimes,  as  they  hurried  across  a  broad 
tableland,  or  skirted  the  edge  of  a  precipice  and 
looked  down  hundreds  of  feet  below  at  the  shining 
waters  they  had  just  forded,  or  up  at  the  rocky 
points  of  the  mountains  before  them,  the  beauty 
of  the  night  overcame  them  and  made  them  for 
get  the  significance  of  their  journey. 

They  were  not  always  alone,  for  they  passed 
at  intervals  through  sleeping  villages  of  mud  huts 
with  thatched  roofs,  where  the  dogs  ran  yelping 
out  to  bark  at  them,  and  where  the  pine-knots, 
blazing  on  the  clay  ovens,  burned  cheerily  in  the 
moonlight.  In  the  low  lands  where  the  fever  lay, 
the  mist  rose  above  the  level  of  their  heads  and 
enshrouded  them  in  a  curtain  of  fog,  and  the  dew 

275 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

fell  heavily,  penetrating  their  clothing  and  chilling 
their  heated  bodies  so  that  the  sweating  horses 
moved  in  a  lather  of  steam. 

They  had  settled  down  into  a  steady  gallop 
now,  and  ten  or  fifteen  miles  had  been  left  behind 
them. 

"We  are  making  excellent  time,"  said  Clay. 
"The  village  of  San  Lorenzo  should  lie  beyond 
that  ridge."  He  drove  up  beside  the  driver  and 
pointed  with  his  whip.  "Is  not  that  San  Loren 
zo?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  senor,"  the  man  answered,  "but  I  mean 
to  drive  around  it  by  the  old  wagon  trail.  It  is 
a  large  town,  and  people  may  be  awake.  You 
will  be  able  to  see  it  from  the  top  of  the  next 
hill." 

The  cavalcade  stopped  at  the  summit  of  the 
ridge  and  the  men  looked  down  into  the  silent 
village.  It  was  like  the  others  they  had  passed, 
with  a  few  houses  built  round  a  square  of  grass 
that  could  hardly  be  recognized  as  a  plaza,  ex 
cept  for  the  church  on  its  one  side,  and  the  huge 
wooden  cross  planted  in  its  centre.  From  the  top 
of  the  hill  they  could  see  that  the  greater  number 
of  the  houses  were  in  darkness,  but  in  a  large 
building  of  two  stories  lights  were  shining  from 
every  window. 

"That  is  the  comandancia,"  said  the  driver, 
276 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

shaking  his  head.  "They  are  still  awake.  It  is 
a  telegraph  station." 

"Great  Scott!"  exclaimed  MacWilliams.  "We 
forgot  the  telegraph.  They  may  have  sent  word 
to  head  us  oft  already." 

"Nine  o'clock  is  not  so  very  late,"  said  Clay. 
"It  may  mean  nothing." 

"We  had  better  make  sure,  though,"  MacWil 
liams  answered,  jumping  to  the  ground.  "Lend 
me  your  pony,  Ted,  and  take  my  place.  I'll  run 
in  there  and  dust  around  and  see  what's  up.  I'll 
join  you  on  the  other  side  of  the  town  after  you 
get  back  to  the  main  road." 

"Wait  a  minute,"  said  Clay.  "What  do  you 
mean  to  do?" 

"I  can't  tell  till  I  get  there,  but  I'll  try  to  find 
out  how  much  they  know.  Don't  you  be  afraid. 
I'll  run  fast  enough  if  there's  any  sign  of  trouble. 
And  if  you  come  across  a  telegraph  wire,  cut  it. 
The  message  may  not  have  gone  over  yet." 

The  two  women  in  the  carriage  had  parted  the 
flaps  of  the  hoods  and  were  trying  to  hear  what 
was  being  said,  but  could  not  understand,  and 
Langham  explained  to  them  that  they  were  about 
to  make  a  slight  detour  to  avoid  San  Lorenzo 
while  MacWilliams  was  going  into  it  to  recon 
noitre.  He  asked  if  they  were  comfortable,  and 
assured  them  that  the  greater  part  of  the  ride  was 

277 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

over,  and  that  there  was  a  good  road  from  San 
Lorenzo  to  the  sea. 

MacWilliams  rode  down  into  the  village  along 
the  main  trail,  and  threw  his  reins  over  a  post  in 
front  of  the  comandancia.  He  mounted  boldly 
to  the  second  floor  of  the  building  and  stopped 
at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  in  front  of  an  open  door. 
There  were  three  men  in  the  room  before  hkn, 
one  an  elderly  man,  whom  he  rightly  guessed  was 
the  comandante,  and  two  younger  men  who  were 
standing  behind  a  railing  and  bending  over  a  tele 
graph  instrument  on  a  table.  As  he  stamped  into 
the  room,  they  looked  up  and  stared  at  him  in  sur 
prise;  their  faces  showed  that  he  had  interrupted 
them  at  a  moment  of  unusual  interest. 

MacWilliams  saluted  the  three  men  civilly,  and, 
according  to  the  native  custom,  apologized  for 
appearing  before  them  in  his  spurs.  He  had  been 
riding  from  Los  Bocos  to  the  capital,  he  said,  and 
his  horse  had  gone  lame.  Could  they  tell  him 
him  if  there  was  any  one  in  the  village  from  whom 
he  could  hire  a  mule,  as  he  must  push  on  to  the 
capital  that  night? 

The  comandante  surveyed  him  for  a  moment, 
as  though  still  disturbed  by  the  interruption,  and 
then  shook  his  head  impatiently.  "You  can  hire 
a  mule  from  one  Pulido  Paul,  at  the  corner  of  the 
plaza,"  he  said.  And  as  MacWilliams  still  stood 

278 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

uncertainly,  he  added,  "You  say  you  have  come 
from  Los  Bocos.  Did  you  meet  any  one  on  your 
way?" 

The  two  younger  men  looked  up  at  him  anx 
iously,  but  before  he  could  answer,  the  instrument 
began  to  tick  out  the  signal,  and  they  turned  their 
eyes  to  it  again,  and  one  of  them  began  to  take 
its  message  down  on  paper. 

The  instrument  spoke  to  MacWilliams  also,  for 
he  was  used  to  sending  telegrams  daily  from  the 
office  to  the  mines,  and  could  make  it  talk  for  him 
in  either  English  or  Spanish.  So,  in  his  effort  to 
hear  what  it  might  say,  he  stammered  and  glanced 
at  it  involuntarily,  and  the  comandante,  without 
suspecting  his  reason  for  doing  so,  turned  also  and 
peered  over  the  shoulder  of  the  man  who  was  re 
ceiving  the  message.  Except  for  the  clicking  of 
the  instrument,  the  room  was  absolutely  still;  the 
three  men  bent  silently  over  the  table,  while  Mac- 
Williams  stood  gazing  at  the  ceiling  and  turning 
his  hat  in  his  hands.  The  message  MacWilliams 
read  from  the  instrument  was  this:  "They  are  re 
ported  to  have  left  the  city  by  the  south,  so  they 
are  going  to  Para,  or  San  Pedro,  or  to  Los  Bocos. 
She  must  be  stopped — take  an  armed  force  and 
guard  the  roads.  If  necessary,  kill  her.  She  has 
in  the  carriage  or  hidden  on  her  person,  drafts 
for  five  million  sols.  You  will  be  held  responsible 

279 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

for  every  one  of  them.  Repeat  this  message  to 
show  you  understand,  and  relay  it  to  Los  Bocos. 
If  you  fail—" 

MacWilliams  could  not  wait  to  hear  more;  he 
gave  a  curt  nod  to  the  men  and  started  toward 
the  stairs.  "Wait,"  the  comandante  called  after 
him. 

MacWilliams  paused  with  one  hand  on  top  of 
the  banisters  balancirag  himself  in  readiness  for 
instant  flight. 

"You  have  not  answered  me.  Did  you  meet 
with  any  one  on  your  ride  here  from  Los  Bo- 
cos?" 

"I  met  several  men  on  foot,  and  the  mail  carrier 
passed  me  a  league  out  from  the  coast,  and  oh, 
yes,  I  met  a  carriage  at  the  cross  roads,  and  the 
driver  asked  me  the  way  of  San  Pedro  Sula." 

"A  carriage? — yes — and  what  did  you  tell 
him?" 

"I  told  him  he  was  on  the  road  to  Los  Bocos, 
and  he  turned  back  and — " 

"You  are  sure  he  turned  back?" 

"Certainly,  sir.  I  rode  behind  him  for  some 
distance.  He  turned  finally  to  the  right  into  the 
trail  to  San  Pedro  Sula." 

The  man  flung  himself  across  the  railing. 

"Quick,"  he  commanded,  "telegraph  to  Mo> 
rales,  Comandante  San  Pedro  Sula — " 

280 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

He  had  turned  his  back  on  MacWilliams,  and 
as  the  younger  man  bent  over  the  instrument,  Mac- 
Williams  stepped  softly  down  the  stairs,  and 
mounting  his  pony  rode  slowly  off  in  the  direction 
of  the  capital.  As  soon  as  he  had  reached  the 
outskirts  of  the  town,  he  turned  and  galloped 
round  it  and  then  rode  fast  with  his  head  in  air, 
glancing  up  at  the  telegraph  wire  that  sagged  from 
tree-trunk  to  tree-trunk  along  the  trail.  At  a  point 
where  he  thought  he  could  dismount  in  safety  and 
tear  down  the  wire,  he  came  across  it  dangling 
from  the  branches  and  he  gave  a  shout  of  re 
lief.  He  caught  the  loose  end  and  dragged  it 
free  from  its  support,  and  then  laying  it  across  a 
rock  pounded  the  blade  of  his  knife  upon  it  with 
a  stone,  until  he  had  hacked  off  a  piece  some  fifty 
feet  in  length.  Taking  this  in  his  hand  he  mount- 
ted  again  and  rode  off  with  it,  dragging  the  wire 
in  the  road  behind  him.  He  held  it  up  as  he  re 
joined  Clay,  and  laughed  triumphantly.  "They'll 
have  some  trouble  splicing  that  circuit,"  he  said, 
"you  only  half  did  the  work.  What  wouldn't  we 
give  to  know  all  this  little  piece  of  copper  knows, 
eh?" 

"Do  you  mean  you  think  they  have  telegraphed 
to  Los  Bocos  already?" 

"I  know  that  they  were  telegraphing  to  San  Pe 
dro  Sula  as  I  left  and  to  all  the  coast  towns.  But 

281 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

whether  you  cut  this  down  before  or  after  is  what 
I  should  like  to  know." 

"We  shall  probably  learn  that  later,"  said  Clay, 
grimly. 

The  last  three  miles  of  the  journey  lay  over  a 
hard,  smooth  road,  wide  enough  to  allow  the  car 
riage  and  its  escort  to  ride  abreast.  It  was  in  such 
contrast  to  the  tortuous  paths  they  had  just  fol 
lowed,  that  the  horses  gained  a  fresh  impetus  and 
galloped  forward  as  freely  as  though  the  race  had 
but  just  begun. 

Madame  Alvarez  stopped  the  carriage  at  one 
place  and  asked  the  men  to  lower  the  hood  at  the 
back  that  she  might  feel  the  fresh  air  and  see 
about  her,  and  when  this  had  been  done,  the 
women  seated  themselves  with  their  backs  to  the 
horses  where  they  could  look  out  at  the  moonlit 
road  as  it  unrolled  behind  them. 

Hope  felt  selfishly  and  wickedly  happy.  The 
excitement  had  kept  her  spirits  at  the  highest  point, 
and  the  knowledge  that  Clay  was  guarding  and 
protecting  her  was  in  itself  a  pleasure.  She  leaned 
back  on  the  cushions  and  put  her  arm  around  the 
older  woman's  waist,  and  listened  to  the  light  beat 
of  his  pony's  hoofs  outside,  now  running  ahead, 
now  scrambling  and  slipping  up  some  steep  place, 
and  again  coming  to  a  halt  as  Langham  or  Mac- 
Williams  called,  "Look  to  the  right,  behind  those 

282 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

trees,"  or  "Ahead  there!  Don't  you  see  what  I 
mean,  something  crouching?" 

She  did  not  know  when  the  false  alarms  would 
turn  into  a  genuine  attack,  but  she  was  confident 
that  when  the  time  came  he  would  take  care  of 
her,  and  she  welcomed  the  danger  because  it 
brought  that  solace  with  it. 

Madame  Alvarez  sat  at  her  side,  rigid,  silent, 
and  beyond  the  help  of  comfort.  She  tortured 
herself  with  thoughts  of  the  ambitions  she  had 
held,  and  which  had  been  so  cruelly  mocked  that 
very  morning;  of  the  chivalric  love  that  had  been 
hers,  of  the  life  even  that  had  been  hers,  and 
which  had  been  given  up  for  her  so  tragically. 
When  she  spoke  at  all,  it  was  to  murmur  her  sor 
row  that  Hope  had  exposed  herself  to  danger  on 
her  poor  account,  and  that  her  life,  as  far  as  she 
loved  it,  was  at  an  end.  Only  once  after  the  men 
had  parted  the  curtains  and  asked  concerning  her 
comfort  with  grave  solicitude  did  she  give  way 
to  tears. 

"Why  are  they  so  good  to  me?"  she  moaned. 
"Why  are  you  so  good  to  me?  I  am  a  wicked, 
vain  woman,  I  have  brought  a  nation  to  war  and 
I  have  killed  the  only  man  I  ever  trusted." 

Hope  touched  her  gently  with  her  hand  and 
felt  guiltily  how  selfish  she  herself  must  be  not 
to  feel  the  woman's  grief,  but  she  could  not.  She 

283 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

only  saw  in  it  a  contrast  to  her  own  happiness,  a 
black  background  before  which  the  figure  of  Clay 
and  his  solicitude  for  her  shone  out,  the  only  fact 
in  the  world  that  was  of  value. 

Her  thoughts  were  interrupted  by  the  carriage 
coming  to  a  halt,  and  a  significant  movement  upon 
the  part  of  the  men.  MacWilliams  had  descended 
from  the  box-seat  and  stepping  into  the  carriage 
took  the  place  the  women  had  just  left. 

He  had  a  carbine  in  his  hand,  and  after  he  was 
seated  Langham  handed  him  another  which  he 
laid  across  his  knees. 

"They  thought  I  was  too  conspicuous  on  the 
box  to  do  any  good  there,"  he  explained  in  a  con 
fidential  whisper.  "In  case  there  is  any  firing  now, 
you  ladies  want  to  get  down  on  your  knees  here 
at  my  feet,  and  hide  your  heads  in  the  cushions. 
We  are  entering  Los  Bocos." 

Langham  and  Clay  were  riding  far  in  advance, 
scouting  to  the  right  and  left,  and  the  carriage 
moved  noiselessly  behind  them  through  the  empty 
streets.  There  was  no  light  in  any  of  the  win 
dows,  and  not  even  a  dog  barked,  or  a  cock  crowed. 
The  women  sat  erect,  listening  for  the  first  signal 
of  an  attack,  each  holding  the  other's  hand  and 
looking  at  MacWilliams,  who  sat  with  his  thumb 
on  the  trigger  of  his  carbine,  glancing  to  the  right 
and  left  and  breathing  quickly.  His  eyes  twinkled, 

284 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

like  those  of  a  little  fox  terrier.    The  men  dropped 
back,  and  drew  up  on  a  level  with  the  carriage. 

"We  are  all  right,  so  far,"  Clay  whispered. 
"The  beach  slopes  down  from  the  other  side  of 
that  line  of  trees.  What  is  the  matter  with  you?" 
he  demanded,  suddenly,  looking  up  at  the  driver, 
"are  you  afraid?" 

"No,"  the  man  answered,  hurriedly,  his  voice 
shaking;  "it's  the  cold." 

Langham  had  galloped  on  ahead  and  as  he 
passed  through  the  trees  and  came  out  upon  the 
beach,  he  saw  a  broad  stretch  of  moonlit  water 
and  the  lights  from  the  yacht  shining  from  a  point 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  off  shore.  Among  the  rocks 
on  the  edge  of  the  beach  was  the  "Vesta's"  long 
boat  and  her  crew  seated  in  it  or  standing  about 
on  the  beach.  The  carriage  had  stopped  under  the 
protecting  shadow  of  the  trees,  and  he  raced  back 
toward  it. 

"The  yacht  is  here,"  he  cried.  "The  long-boat 
is  waiting  and  there  is  not  a  sign  of  light  about 
the  Custom-house.  Come  on,"  he  cried.  "We 
have  beaten  them  after  all." 

A  sailor,  who  had  been  acting  as  lookout  on  the 
rocks,  sprang  to  his  full  height,  and  shouted  to 
the  group  around  the  long-boat,  and  King  came 
up  the  beach  toward  them  running  heavily  through 
the  deep  sand. 

285 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

Madame  Alvarez  stepped  down  from  the  car 
riage,  and  as  Hope  handed  her  her  jewel  case  in 
silence,  the  men  draped  her  cloak  about  her  shoul 
ders.  She  put  out  her  hand  to  them,  and  as  Clay 
took  it  in  his,  she  bent  her  head  quickly  and 
kissed  his  hand.  "You  were  his  friend,"  she 
murmured. 

She  held  Hope  in  her  arms  for  an  instant,  and 
kissed  her,  and  then  gave  her  hand  in  turn  to 
Langham  and  to  MacWilliams. 

"I  do  not  know  whether  I  shall  ever  see  you 
again,"  she  said,  looking  slowly  from  one  to  the 
other,  "but  I  will  pray  for  you  every  day,  and 
God  will  reward  you  for  saving  a  worthless  life." 
As  she  finished  speaking  King  came  up  to  the 
group,  followed  by  three  of  his  men. 

"Is  Hope  with  you,  is  she  safe?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  she  is  with  me,"  Madame  Alvarez  an 
swered. 

"Thank  God,"  King  exclaimed,  breathlessly. 
"Then  we  will  start  at  once,  Madame.  Where 
is  she?  She  must  come  with  us!" 

"Of  course,"  Clay  assented,  eagerly,  "she  will 
be  much  safer  on  the  yacht." 

But  Hope  protested.  "I  must  get  back  to  fa 
ther,"  she  said.  "The  yacht  will  not  arrive  until 
late  to-morrow,  and  the  carriage  can  take  me  to 
him  five  hours  earlier.  The  family  have  worried 

286 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

too  long  about  me  as  it  is,  and,  besides,  I  will  not 
leave  Ted.     I  am  going  back  as  I  came." 

"It  is  most  unsafe,"  King  urged. 

"On  the  contrary,  it  is  perfectly  safe  now," 
Hope  answered.  "It  was  not  one  of  us  they 
wanted." 

"You  may  be  right,"  King  said.  "They  don't 
know  what  has  happened  to  you,  and  perhaps  after 
all  it  would  be  better  if  you  went  back  the  quicker 
way."  He  gave  his  arm  to  Madame  Alvarez  and 
walked  with  her  toward  the  shore.  As  the  men 
surrounded  her  on  every  side  and  moved  away, 
Clay  glanced  back  at  Hope  and  saw  her  standing 
upright  in  the  carriage  looking  after  them. 

"We  will  be  with  you  in  a  minute,"  he  called, 
as  though  in  apology  for  leaving  her  for  even  that 
brief  space.  And  then  the  shadow  of  the  trees 
shut  her  and  the  carriage  from  his  sight.  His 
footsteps  made  no  sound  in  the  soft  sand,  and 
except  for  the  whispering  of  the  palms  and  the 
sleepy  wash  of  the  waves  as  they  ran  up  the  peb 
bly  beach  and  sank  again,  the  place  was  as  peace 
ful  and  silent  as  a  deserted  island,  though  the  moon 
made  it  as  light  as  day. 

The  long-boat  had  been  drawn  up  with  her  stern 
to  the  shore,  and  the  men  were  already  in  their 
places,  some  standing  waiting  for  the  order  to 
shove  off,  and  others  seated  balancing  their  oars. 

287, 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

King  had  arranged  to  fire  a  rocket  when  the 
launch  left  the  shore,  in  order  that  the  captain 
of  the  yacht  might  run  in  closer  to  pick  them  up. 
As  he  hurried  down  the  beach,  he  called  to  his 
boatswain  to  give  the  signal,  and  the  man  answered 
that  he  understood  and  stooped  to  light  a  match. 
King  had  jumped  into  the  stern  and  lifted  Ma 
dame  Alvarez  after  him,  leaving  her  late  escort 
standing  with  uncovered  heads  on  the  beach  be 
hind  her,  when  the  rocket  shot  up  into  the  calm 
white  air,  with  a  roar  and  a  rush  and  a  sudden 
flash  of  color.  At  the  same  instant,  as  though  in 
answer  to  its  challenge,  the  woods  back  of  them 
burst  into  an  irregular  line  of  flame,  a  volley  of 
rifle  shots  shattered  the  silence,  and  a  score  of  bul 
lets  splashed  in  the  water  and  on  the  rocks  about 
them. 

The  boatswain  in  the  bow  of  the  long-boat 
tossed  up  his  arms  and  pitched  forward  between 
the  thwarts. 

"Give  way,"  he  shouted  as  he  fell. 

"Pull,"  Clay  yelled,  "pull,  all  of  you." 

He  threw  himself  against  the  stern  of  the  boat, 
and  Langham  and  MacWilliams  clutched  its  sides, 
and  with  their  shoulders  against  it  and  their  bodies 
half  sunk  in  the  water,  shoved  it  off,  free  of  the 
shore. 

The  shots  continued  fiercely,  and  two  of  the 
288 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

crew  cried  out  and  fell  back  upon  the  oars  of  the 
men  behind  them. 

Madame  Alvarez  sprang  to  her  feet  and  stood 
swaying  unsteadily  as  the  boat  leaped  forward. 

"Take  me  back.  Stop,  I  command  you,"  she 
cried,  "I  will  not  leave  those  men.  Do  you  hear?" 

King  caught  her  by  the  waist  and  dragged  her 
down,  but  she  struggled  to  free  herself.  "I  will 
not  leave  them  to  be  murdered,"  she  cried.  "You 
cowards,  put  me  back." 

"Hold  her,  King,"  Clay  shouted.  "We're  all 
right.  They're  not  firing  at  us." 

His  voice  was  drowned  in  the  noise  of  the  oars 
beating  in  the  rowlocks,  and  the  reports  of  the 
rifles.  The  boat  disappeared  in  a  mist  of  spray 
and  moonlight,  and  Clay  turned  and  faced  about 
him.  Langham  and  MacWilliams  were  crouch 
ing  behind  a  rock  and  firing  at  the  flashes  in  the 
woods. 

"You  can't  stay  there,"  Clay  cried.  "We  must 
get  back  to  Hope." 

He  ran  forward,  dodging  from  side  to  side  and 
firing  as  he  ran.  He  heard  shots  from  the  water, 
and  looking  back  saw  that  the  men  in  the  long 
boat  had  ceased  rowing,  and  were  returning  the 
fire  from  the  shore. 

"Come  back,  Hope  is  all  right,"  her  brother 
called  to  him.  "I  haven't  seen  a  shot  within  a 

289 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

hundred  yards  of  her  yet,  they're  firing  from  the 
Custom-house  and  below.     I  think  Mac's  hit." 

"I'm  not,"  MacWilliams's  voice  answered  from 
behind  a  rock,  "but  I'd  like  to  see  something  to 
shoot  at." 

A  hot  tremor  of  rage  swept  over  Clay  at  the 
thought  of  a  possibly  fatal  termination  to  the 
night's  adventure.  He  groaned  at  the  mockery 
of  having  found  his  life  only  to  lose  it  now,  when 
it  was  more  precious  to  him  than  it  had  ever  been, 
and  to  lose  it  in  a  silly  brawl  with  semi-savages. 
He  cursed  himself  impotently  and  rebelliously  for 
a  senseless  fool. 

"Keep  back,  can't  you?"  he  heard  Langham 
calling  to  him  from  the  shore.  "You're  only 
drawing  the  fire  toward  Hope.  She's  got  away 
by  now.  She  had  both  the  horses." 

Langham  and  MacWilliams  started  forward  to 
Clay's  side,  but  the  instant  they  left  the  shadow 
of  the  rock,  the  bullets  threw  up  the  sand  at  their 
feet  and  they  stopped  irresolutely.  The  moon 
showed  the  three  men  outlined  against  the  white 
sand  of  the  beach  as  clearly  as  though  a  search 
light  had  been  turned  upon  them,  even  while  its 
shadows  sheltered  and  protected  their  assailants. 
At  their  backs  the  open  sea  cut  off  retreat,  and  the 
line  of  fire  in  front  held  them  in  check.  They 
were  as  helpless  as  chessmen  upon  a  board. 

290 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"I'm  not  going  to  stand  still  to  be  shot  at," 
cried  MacWilliams.  "Let's  hide  or  let's  run. 
This  isn't  doing  anybody  any  good."  But  no  one 
moved.  They  could  hear  the  singing  of  the  bul 
lets  as  they  passed  them  whining  in  the  air  like 
a  banjo-string  that  is  being  tightened,  and  they 
knew  they  were  in  equal  danger  from  those  who 
were  firing  from  the  boat. 

"They're  shooting  better,"  said  MacWilliams. 
"They'll  reach  us  in  a  minute." 

"They've  reached  me  already,  I  think,"  Lang- 
ham  answered,  with  suppressed  satisfaction,  "in 
the  shoulder.  It's  nothing."  His  unconcern  was 
quite  sincere;  to  a  young  man  who  had  galloped 
through  two  long  halves  of  a  football  match  on 
a  strained  tendon,  a  scratched  shoulder  was  not 
important,  except  as  an  unsought  honor. 

But  it  was  of  the  most  importance  to  MacWil 
liams.  He  raised  his  voice  against  the  men  in 
the  woods  in  impotent  fury.  "Come  out,  you 
cowards,  where  we  can  see  you,"  he  cried.  "Come 
out  where  I  can  shoot  your  black  heads  off." 

Clay  had  fired  the  last  cartridge  in  his  rifle,  and 
throwing  it  away  drew  his  revolver. 

"We  must  either  swim  or  hide,"  he  said.  "Put 
your  heads  down  and  run." 

But  as  he  spoke,  they  saw  the  carriage  plunging 
out  of  the  shadow  of  the  woods  and  the  horses 

291 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

galloping  toward  them  down  the  beach.  Mac- 
Williams  gave  a  cheer  of  welcome.  "Hurrah !" 
he  shouted,  "it's  Jose  coming  for  us.  He's  a  good 
man.  Well  done,  Jose !"  he  called. 

"That's  not  Jose,"  Langham  cried,  doubtfully, 
peering  through  the  moonlight.  "Good  God! 
It's  Hope,"  he  exclaimed.  He  waved  his  hands 
frantically  above  his  head.  "Go  back,  Hope,"  he 
cried,  "go  back!" 

But  the  carriage  did  not  swerve  on  its  way 
toward  them.  They  all  saw  her  now  distinctly. 
She  was  on  the  driver's  box  and  alone,  leaning 
forward  and  lashing  the  horses'  backs  with  the 
whip  and  reins,  and  bending  over  to  avoid  the  bul 
lets  that  passed  above  her  head.  As  she  came 
down  upon  them,  she  stood  up,  her  woman's  fig 
ure  outlined  clearly  in  the  riding  habit  she  still 
wore.  "Jump  in  when  I  turn,"  she  cried.  "I'm 
going  to  turn  slowly,  run  and  jump  in." 

She  bent  forward  again  and  pulled  the  horses 
to  the  right,  and  as  they  obeyed  her,  plunging  and 
tugging  at  their  bits,  as  though  they  knew  the 
danger  they  were  in,  the  men  threw  themselves 
at  the  carriage.  Clay  caught  the  hood  at  the  back, 
swung  himself  up,  and  scrambled  over  the  cushions 
and  up  to  the  box  seat.  He  dropped  down  behind 
Hope,  and  reaching  his  arms  around  her  took  the 
reins  in  one  hand,  and  with  the  other  forced  her 

292 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

down  to  her  knees  upon  the  footboard,  so  that, 
as  she  knelt,  his  arms  and  body  protected  her  from 
the  bullets  sent  after  them.  Langham  followed 
Clay,  and  tumbled  into  the  carriage  over  the  hood 
at  the  back,  but  MacWilliams  endeavored  to  vault 
in  from  the  step,  and  missing  his  footing  fell  un 
der  the  hind  wheel,  so  that  the  weight  of  the  car 
riage  passed  over  him,  and  his  head  was  buried 
for  an  instant  in  the  sand.  But  he  was  on  his 
feet  again  before  they  had  noticed  that  he  was 
down,  and  as  he  jumped  for  the  hood,  Langham 
caught  him  by  the  collar  of  his  coat  and  dragged 
him  into  the  seat,  panting  and  gasping,  and  rub 
bing  the  sand  from  his  mouth  and  nostrils.  Clay 
turned  the  carriage  at  a  right  angle  through  the 
heavy  sand,  and  still  standing  with  Hope  crouched 
at  his  knees,  he  raced  back  to  the  woods  into  the 
face  of  the  firing,  with  the  boys  behind  him  an 
swering  it  from  each  side  of  the  carriage,  so  that 
the  horses  leaped  forward  in  a  frenzy  of  terror, 
and  dashing  through  the  woods,  passed  into  the 
first  road  that  opened  before  them. 

The  road  into  which  they  had  turned  was  nar 
row,  but  level,  and  ran  through  a  forest  of  banana 
palms  that  bent  and  swayed  above  them.  Lang- 
ham  and  MacWilliams  still  knelt  in  the  rear  seat 
of  the  carriage,  watching  the  road  on  the  chance 
of  possible  pursuit. 

293 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"Give  me  some  cartridges,"  said  Langham. 
"My  belt  is  empty.  What  road  is  this?" 

"It  is  a  private  road,  I  should  say,  through 
somebody's  banana  plantation.  But  it  must  cross 
the  main  road  somewhere.  It  doesn't  matter, 
we're  all  right  now.  I  mean  to  take  it  easy." 
MacWilliams  turned  on  his  back  and  stretched 
out  his  legs  on  the  seat  opposite. 

"Where  do  you  suppose  those  men  sprang  from? 
Were  they  following  us  all  the  time?" 

"Perhaps,  or  else  that  message  got  over  the 
wire  before  we  cut  it,  and  they've  been  lying  in 
wait  for  us.  They  were  probably  watching  King 
and  his  sailors  for  the  last  hour  or  so,  but  they 
didn't  want  him.  They  wanted  her  and  the 
money.  It  was  pretty  exciting,  wasn't  it?  How's 
your  shoulder?" 

"It's  a  little  stiff,  thank  you,"  said  Langham. 
He  stood  up  and  by  peering  over  the  hood  could 
just  see  the  top  of  Clay's  sombrero  rising  above 
it  where  he  sat  on  the  back  seat. 

"You  and  Hope  all  right  up  there,  Clay?"  he 
asked. 

The  top  of  the  sombrero  moved  slightly,  and 
Langham  took  it  as  a  sign  that  all  was  well.  He 
dropped  back  into  his  seat  beside  MacWilliams, 
and  they  both  breathed  a  long  sigh  of  relief  and 
content.  Langham's  wounded  arm  was  the  one 

294 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

nearest  MacWilliams,  and  the  latter  parted  the 
torn  sleeve  and  examined  the  furrow  across  the 
shoulder  with  unconcealed  envy. 

"I  am  afraid  it  won't  leave  a  scar,"  he  said, 
sympathetically. 

"Won't  it?"  asked  Langham,  in  some  con 
cern. 

The  horses  had  dropped  into  a  walk,  and  the 
beauty  of  the  moonlit  night  put  its  spell  upon  the 
two  boys,  and  the  rustling  of  the  great  leaves 
above  their  heads  stilled  and  quieted  them  so  that 
they  unconsciously  spoke  in  whispers. 

Clay  had  not  moved  since  the  horses  turned  of 
their  own  accord  into  the  valley  of  the  palms. 
He  no  longer  feared  pursuit  nor  any  interruption 
to  their  further  progress.  His  only  sensation  was 
one  of  utter  thankfulness  that  they  were  all  well 
out  of  it,  and  that  Hope  had  been  the  one  who 
had  helped  them  in  their  trouble,  and  his  dear 
est  thought  was  that,  whether  she  wished  or  not, 
he  owed  his  safety,  and  possibly  his  life,  to 
her. 

She  still  crouched  between  his  knees  upon  the 
broad  footboard,  with  her  hands  clasped  in  front 
of  her,  and  looking  ahead  into  the  vista  of  soft 
mysterious  lights  and  dark  shadows  that  the  moon 
cast  upon  the  road.  Neither  of  them  spoke,  and 
as  the  silence  continued  unbroken,  it  took  a  weight- 

295 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

ier  significance,  and  at  each  added  second  of  time 
became  more  full  of  meaning. 

The  horses  had  dropped  into  a  tired  walk,  and 
drew  them  smoothly  over  the  white  road;  from 
behind  the  hood  came  broken  snatches  of  the  boys' 
talk,  and  above  their  heads  the  heavy  leaves  of 
the  palms  bent  and  bowed  as  though  in  benedic 
tion.  A  warm  breeze  from  the  land  filled  the  air 
with  the  odor  of  ripening  fruit  and  pungent  smells, 
and  the  silence  seemed  to  envelop  them  and  mark 
them  as  the  only  living  creatures  awake  in  the 
brilliant  tropical  night. 

Hope  sank  slowly  back,  and  as  she  did  so,  her 
shoulder  touched  for  an  instant  against  Clay's 
knee;  she  straightened  herself  and  made  a  move 
ment  as  though  to  rise.  Her  nearness  to  him  and 
something  in  her  attitude  at  his  feet  held  Clay  in 
a  spell.  He  bent  forward  and  laid  his  hand  fear 
fully  upon  her  shoulder,  and  the  touch  seemed  to 
stop  the  blood  in  his  veins  and  hushed  the  words 
upon  his  lips.  Hope  raised  her  head  slowly  as 
though  with  a  great  effort,  and  looked  into  his 
eyes.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  been  looking 
into  those  same  eyes  for  centuries,  as  though  he 
had  always  known  them,  and  the  soul  that  looked 
out  of  them  into  his.  He  bent  his  head  lower, 
and  stretching  out  his  arms  drew  her  to  him,  and 

296 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

the  eyes  did  not  waver.  He  raised  her  and  held 
her  close  against  his  breast.  Her  eyes  faltered 
and  closed. 

"Hope,"  he  whispered,  "Hope."  He  stooped 
lower  and  kissed  her,  and  his  lips  told  her  what 
they  could  not  speak — and  they  were  quite  alone. 


297 


XIV 

AN  hour  later  Langham  rose  with  a  protest 
ing  sigh  and  shook  the  hood  violently. 

"I  say!"  he  called.  "Are  you  asleep  up  there? 
We'll  never  get  home  at  this  rate.  Doesn't  Hope 
want  to  come  back  here  and  go  to  sleep?" 

The  carriage  stopped,  and  the  boys  tumbled  out 
and  walked  around  in  front  of  it.  Hope  sat  smil 
ing  on  the  box-seat.  She  was  apparently  far  from 
sleepy,  and  she  was  quite  contented  where  she  was, 
she  told  him. 

"Do  you  know  we  haven't  had  anything  to  eat 
since  yesterday  at  breakfast?"  asked  Langham. 
"MacWilliams  and  I  are  fainting.  We  move  that 
we  stop  at  the  next  shack  we  come  to,  and  waken 
the  people  up  and  make  them  give  us  some  sup 
per." 

Hope  looked  aside  at  Clay  and  laughed  softly. 
"Supper?"  she  said.  "They  want  supper!" 

Their  suffering  did  not  seem  to  impress  Clay 
deeply.  He  sat  snapping  his  whip  at  the  palm- 
trees  above  him,  and  smiled  happily  in  an  incon 
sequent  and  irritating  manner  at  nothing. 

298 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"See  here!  Do  you  know  that  we  are  lost?" 
demanded  Langham,  indignantly,  "and  starving? 
Have  you  any  idea  at  all  where  you  are?" 

"I  have  not,"  said  Clay,  cheerfully.  "All  I 
know  is  that  a  long  time  ago  there  was  a  revolu 
tion  and  a  woman  with  jewels,  who  escaped  in  an 
open  boat,  and  I  recollect  playing  that  I  was  a 
target  and  standing  up  to  be  shot  at  in  a  bright 
light.  After  that  I  woke  up  to  the  really  impor 
tant  things  of  life — among  which  supper  is  not 
one." 

Langham  and  MacWilliams  looked  at  each 
other  doubtfully,  and  Langham  shook  his  head. 

"Get  down  off  that  box,"  he  commanded.  "If 
you  and  Hope  think  this  is  merely  a  pleasant 
moonlight  drive,  we  don't.  You  two  can  sit  in 
the  carriage  now,  and  we'll  take  a  turn  at  driving, 
and  we'll  guarantee  to  get  you  to  some  place 
soon." 

Clay  and  Hope  descended  meekly  and  seated 
themselves  under  the  hood,  where  they  could  look 
out  upon  the  moonlit  road  as  it  unrolled  behind 
them.  But  they  were  no  longer  to  enjoy  their 
former  leisurely  progress.  The  new  whip  lashed 
his  horses  into  a  gallop,  and  the  trees  flew  past 
them  on  either  hand. 

"Do  you  remember  that  chap  in  the  'Last  Ride 
Together'?"  said  Clay. 

299 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

*•  1  and  my  mistress,  side  by  side, 

Shall  be  together — forever  ride, 
And  so  one  more  day  am  I  deified. 

Who  knows — the  world  may  end  to-night.'* 

Hope  laughed  triumphantly,  and  threw  out  her 
arms  as  though  she  would  embrace  the  whole  beau 
tiful  world  that  stretched  around  them. 

"Oh,  no,"  she  laughed.  "To-night  the  world 
has  just  begun." 

The  carriage  stopped,  and  there  was  a  confusion 
of  voices  on  the  box-seat,  and  then  a  great  barking 
of  dogs,  and  they  beheld  MacWilliams  beating 
and  kicking  at  the  door  of  a  hut.  The  door  opened 
for  an  inch,  and  there  was  a  long  debate  in  Span 
ish,  and  finally  the  door  was  closed  again,  and 
a  light  appeared  through  the  windows.  A  few 
minutes  later  a  man  and  woman  came  out  of  the 
hut,  shivering  and  yawning,  and  made  a  fire  in  the 
sun-baked  oven  at  the  side  of  the  house.  Hope 
and  Clay  remained  seated  in  the  carriage,  and 
watched  the  flames  springing  up  from  the  oily 
fagots,  and  the  boys  moving  about  with  flaring 
torches  of  pine,  pulling  down  bundles  of  fodder 
for  the  horses  from  the  roof  of  the  kitchen,  while 
two  sleepy  girls  disappeared  toward  a  mountain 
stream,  one  carrying  a  jar  on  her  shoulder,  and 
the  other  lighting  the  way  with  a  torch.  Hope 
sat  with  her  chin  on  her  hand,  watching  the  black 

300 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

figures  passing  between  them  and  the  fire,  and 
standing  above  it  with  its  light  on  their  faces, 
shading  their  eyes  from  the  heat  with  one  hand, 
and  stirring  something  in  a  smoking  caldron  with 
the  other.  Hope  felt  an  overflowing  sense  of 
gratitude  to  these  simple  strangers  for  the  trouble 
they  wrere  taking.  She  felt  how  good  every  one 
was,  and  how  wonderfully  kind  and  generous  was 
the  world  that  she  lived  in. 

Her  brother  came  over  to  the  carriage  and 
bowed  with  mock  courtesy. 

"I  trust,  now  that  we  have  done  all  the  work," 
he  said,  "that  your  excellencies  will  condescend  to 
share  our  frugal  fare,  or  must  we  bring  it  to  you 
here?" 

The  clay  oven  stood  in  the  middle  of  a  hut 
of  laced  twigs,  through  which  the  smoke  drifted 
freely.  There  was  a  row  of  wooden  benches 
around  it,  and  they  all  seated  themselves  and  ate 
ravenously  of  rice  and  fried  plantains,  while  the 
woman  patted  and  tossed  tortillas  between  her 
hands,  eyeing  her  guests  curiously.  Her  glance 
fell  upon  Langham's  shoulder,  and  rested  there 
for  so  long  that  Hope  followed  the  direction  of 
her  eyes.  She  leaped  to  her  feet  with  a  cry  of 
fear  and  reproach,  and  ran  toward  her  brother. 

"Ted!"  she  cried,  "you  are  hurt!  you  are 
wounded,  and  you  never  told  me!  What  is  it? 

301 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

Is  it  very  bad?"      Clay  crossed  the   floor  in   a 
stride,  his  face  full  of  concern. 

"Leave  me  alone  !"  cried  the  stern  brother,  back 
ing  away  and  warding  them  off  with  the  coffee 
pot.  "It's  only  scratched.  You'll  spill  the  cof 
fee." 

But  at  the  sight  of  the  blood  Hope  had  turned 
very  white,  and  throwing  her  arms  around  her 
brother's  neck,  hid  her  eyes  on  his  other  shoulder 
and  began  to  cry. 

"I  am  so  selfish,"  she  sobbed.  "I  have  been 
so  happy  and  you  were  suffering  all  the  time." 

Her  brother  stared  at  the  others  in  dismay. 
"What  nonsense,"  he  said,  patting  her  on  the 
shoulder.  "You're  a  bit  tired,  and  you  need  rest. 
That's  what  you  need.  The  idea  of  my  sister 
going  off  in  hysterics  after  behaving  like  such  a 
sport — and  before  these  young  ladies,  too.  Aren't 
you  ashamed?" 

"I  should  think  they'd  be  ashamed,"  said  Mac- 
Williams,  severely,  as  he  continued  placidly  with 
his  supper.  "They  haven't  got  enough  clothes 
on." 

Langham  looked  over  Hope's  shoulder  at  Clay 
and  nodded  significantly.  "She's  been  on  a  good 
deal  of  a  strain,"  he  explained  apologetically, 
"and  no  wonder;  it's  been  rather  an  unusual  night 
for  her." 

302 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

Hope  raised  her  head  and  smiled  at  him  through 
her  tears.  Then  she  turned  and  moved  toward 
Clay.  She  brushed  her  eyes  with  the  back  of  her 
hand  and  laughed.  "It  has  been  an  unusual  night," 
she  said.  "Shall  I  tell  him?"  she  asked. 

Clay  straightened  himself  unconsciously,  and 
stepped  beside  her  and  took  her  hand;  MacWil- 
liams  quickly  lowered  to  the  bench  the  dish  from 
which  he  was  eating,  and  stood  up,  too.  The 
people  of  the  house  stared  at  the  group  in  the  fire 
light  with  puzzled  interest,  at  the  beautiful  young 
girl,  and  at  the  tall,  sunburned  young  man  at  her 
side.  Langham  looked  from  his  sister  to  Clay 
and  back  again,  and  laughed  uneasily. 

"Langham,  I  have  been  very  bold,"  said  Clay. 
"I  have  asked  your  sister  to  marry  me — and  she 
has  said  that  she  would." 

Langham  flushed  as  red  as  his  sister.  He  felt 
himself  at  a  disadvantage  in  the  presence  of  a  love 
as  great  and  strong  as  he  knew  this  must  be.  It 
made  him  seem  strangely  young  and  inadequate. 
He  crossed  over  to  his  sister  awkwardly  and  kissed 
her,  and  then  took  Clay's  hand,  and  the  three 
stood  together  and  looked  at  one  another,  and 
there  was  no  sign  of  doubt  or  question  in  the  face 
of  any  one  of  them.  They  stood  so  for  some  little 
time,  smiling  and  exclaiming  together,  and  utterly 
unconscious  of  anything  but  their  own  delight  and 

303 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

happiness.  MacWilliams  watched  them,  his  face 
puckered  into  odd  wrinkles  and  his  eyes  half- 
closed.  Hope  suddenly  broke  away  from  the 
others  and  turned  toward  him  with  her  hands  held 
out. 

"Have  you  nothing  to  say  to  me,  Mr.  MacWil 
liams?"  she  asked. 

MacWilliams  looked  doubtfully  at  Clay,  as 
though  from  force  of  habit  he  must  ask  advice 
from  his  chief  first,  and  then  took  the  hands  that 
she  held  out  to  him  and  shook  them  up  and  down. 
His  usual  confidence  seemed  to  have  forsaken  him, 
and  he  stood,  shifting  from  one  foot  to  the  other, 
smiling  and  abashed. 

"Well,  I  always  said  they  didn't  make  them 
any  better  than  you,"  he  gasped  at  last.  "I  was 
always  telling  him  that,  wasn't  I?"  He  nodded 
energetically  at  Clay.  "And  that's  so;  they  don't 
make  'em  any  better  than  you." 

He  dropped  her  hands  and  crossed  over  to  Clay, 
and  stood  surveying  him  with  a  smile  of  wonder 
and  admiration. 

"How'd  you  do  it?"  he  demanded.  "How  did 
you  do  it?  I  suppose  you  know,"  he  asked  stern 
ly,  "that  you're  not  good  enough  for  Miss  Hope? 
You  know  that,  don't  you?" 

"Of  course  I  know  that,"  said  Clay. 

MacWilliams  walked  toward  the  door  and  stood 
304 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

in  it  for  a  second,  looking  back  at  them  over  his 
shoulder.  "They  don't  make  them  any  better  than 
that,"  he  reiterated  gravely,  and  disappeared  in 
the  direction  of  the  horses,  shaking  his  head  and 
muttering  his  astonishment  and  delight. 

"Please  give  me  some  money,"  Hope  said  to 
Clay.  "All  the  money  you  have,"  she  added,  smil 
ing  at  her  presumption  of  authority  over  him,  "and 
you,  too,  Ted."  The  men  emptied  their  pockets, 
and  Hope  poured  the  mass  of  silver  into  the  hands 
of  the  women,  who  gazed  at  it  uncomprehend- 
ingly. 

"Thank  you  for  your  trouble  and  your  good 
supper,"  Hope  said  in  Spanish,  "and  may  no  evil 
come  to  your  house." 

The  woman  and  her  daughters  followed  her  to 
the  carriage,  bowing  and  uttering  good  wishes  in 
the  extravagant  metaphor  of  their  country;  and 
as  they  drove  away,  Hope  waved  her  hand  to  them 
as  she  sank  closer  against  Clay's  shoulder. 

"The  world  is  full  of  such  kind  and  gentle 
souls,"  she  said. 

In  an  hour  they  had  regained  the  main  road, 
and  a  little  later  the  stars  grew  dim  and  the  moon 
light  faded,  and  trees  and  bushes  and  rocks  began 
to  take  substance  and  to  grow  into  form  and  out 
line.  They  saw  by  the  cool,  gray  light  of  the 
morning  the  familiar  hills  around  the  capital,  and 

305 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

at  a  cry  from  the  boys  on  the  box-seat,  they  looked 
ahead  and  beheld  the  harbor  of  Valencia  at  their 
feet,  lying  as  placid  and  undisturbed  as  the  water 
in  a  bath-tub.  As  they  turned  up  the  hill  into  the 
road  that  led  to  the  Palms,  they  saw  the  sleeping 
capital  like  a  city  of  the  dead  below  them,  its  white 
buildings  reddened  with  the  light  of  the  rising 
sun.  From  three  places  in  different  parts  of  the 
city,  thick  columns  of  smoke  rose  lazily  to  the 
sky. 

"I  had  forgotten!"  said  Clay;  "they  have  been 
having  a  revolution  here.  It  seems  so  long  ago." 

By  five  o'clock  they  had  reached  the  gate  of  the 
Palms,  and  their  appearance  startled  the  sentry  on 
post  into  a  state  of  undisciplined  joy.  A  riderless 
pony,  the  one  upon  which  Jose  had  made  his  escape 
when  the  firing  began,  had  crept  into  the  stable 
an  hour  previous,  stiff  and  bruised  and  weary, 
and  had  led  the  people  at  the  Palms  to  fear  the 
worst. 

Mr.  Langham  and  his  daughter  were  standing 
on  the  veranda  as  the  horses  came  galloping  up 
the  avenue.  They  had  been  awake  all  the  night, 
and  the  face  of  each  was  white  and  drawn  with 
anxiety  and  loss  of  sleep.  Mr.  Langham  caught 
Hope  in  his  arms  and  held  her  face  close  to  his 
in  silence. 

"Where  have  you  been?"  he  said  at  last.  "Why 
306 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

did  you  treat  me  like  this?  You  knew  how  1 
would  suffer." 

"I  could  not  help  it,"  Hope  cried.  "I  had  to 
go  with  Madame  Alvarez." 

Her  sister  had  suffered  as  acutely  as  had  Mr. 
Langham  himself,  as  long  as  she  was  in  ignorance 
of  Hope's  whereabouts.  But  now  that  she  saw 
Hope  in  the  flesh  again,  she  felt  a  reaction  against 
her  for  the  anxiety  and  distress  she  had  caused 
them. 

"My  dear  Hope,"  she  said,  "is  every  one  to 
be  sacrificed  for  Madame  Alvarez?  What  pos 
sible  use  could  you  be  to  her  at  such  a  time?  It 
was  not  the  time  nor  the  place  for  a  young  girl. 
You  were  only  another  responsibility  for  the  men." 

"Clay  seemed  willing  to  accept  the  responsibil 
ity,"  said  Langham,  without  a  smile.  "And,  be 
sides,"  he  added,  "if  Hope  had  not  been  with  us 
we  might  never  have  reached  home  alive." 

But  it  was  only  after  much  earnest  protest  and 
many  explanations  that  Mr.  Langham  was  paci 
fied,  and  felt  assured  that  his  son's  wound  was  not 
dangerous,  and  that  his  daughter  was  quite  safe. 

Miss  Langham  and  himself,  he  said,  had  passed 
a  trying  night.  There  had  been  much  firing  in 
the  city,  and  continual  uproar.  The  houses  of 
several  of  the  friends  of  Alvarez  had  been  burned 
and  sacked.  Alvarez  himself  had  been  shot  as 

307 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

soon  as  he  had  entered  the  yard  of  the  military 
prison.  It  was  then  given  out  that  he  had  com 
mitted  suicide.  Mendoza  had  not  dared  to  kill 
Rojas,  because  of  the  feeling  of  the  people  toward 
him,  and  had  even  shown  him  to  the  mob  from 
behind  the  bars  of  one  of  the  windows  in  order 
to  satisfy  them  that  he  was  still  living.  The  Brit 
ish  Minister  had  sent  to  the  Palace  for  the  body 
of  Captain  Stuart,  and  had  had  it  escorted  to  the 
Legation,  from  whence  it  would  be  sent  to  Eng 
land.  This,  as  far  as  Mr.  Langham  had  heard, 
was  the  news  of  the  night  just  over. 

"Two  native  officers  called  here  for  you  about 
midnight,  Clay,"  he  continued,  "and  they  are  still 
waiting  for  you  below  at  your  office.  They  came 
from  Rojas's  troops,  who  are  encamped  on  the 
hills  at  the  other  side  of  the  city.  They  wanted 
you  to  join  them  with  the  men  from  the  mines. 
I  told  them  I  did  not  know  when  you  would  re 
turn,  and  they  said  they  would  wait.  If  you  could 
have  been  here  last  night,  it  is  possible  that  we 
might  have  done  something,  but  now  that  it  is 
all  over,  I  am  glad  that  you  saved  that  woman 
instead.  I  should  have  liked,  though,  to  have 
struck  one  blow  at  them.  But  we  cannot  hope  to 
win  against  assassins.  The  death  of  young  Stuart 
has  hurt  me  terribly,  and  the  murder  of  Alvarez, 
coming  on  top  of  it,  has  made  me  wish  I  had  never 

308 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

heard  of  nor  seen  Olancho.  I  have  decided  to 
go  away  at  once,  on  the  next  steamer,  and  I  will 
take  my  daughters  with  me,  and  Ted,  too.  The 
State  Department  at  Washington  can  fight  with 
Mendoza  for  the  mines.  You  made  a  good  stand, 
but  they  made  a  better  one,  and  they  have  beaten 
us.  Mendoza's  coup  d'etat  has  passed  into  his 
tory,  and  the  revolution  is  at  an  end." 

On  his  arrival  Clay  had  at  once  asked  for  a 
cigar,  and  while  Mr.  Langham  was  speaking  he 
had  been  biting  it  between  his  teeth,  with  the 
serious  satisfaction  of  a  man  who  had  been  twelve 
hours  without  one.  He  knocked  the  ashes  from 
it  and  considered  the  burning  end  thoughtfully. 
Then  he  glanced  at  Hope  as  she  stood  among  the 
group  on  the  veranda.  She  was  waiting  for  his 
reply  and  watching  him  intently.  He  seemed  to 
be  confident  that  she  would  approve  of  the  only 
course  he  saw  open  to  him. 

"The  revolution  is  not  at  an  end  by  any  means, 
Mr.  Langham,"  he  said  at  last,  simply.  "It  has 
just  begun."  He  turned  abruptly  and  walked 
away  in  the  direction  of  the  office,  and  MacWil- 
liams  and  Langham  stepped  off  the  veranda  and 
followed  him  as  a  matter  of  course. 

The  soldiers  in  the  army  who  were  known  to 
be  faithful  to  General  Rojas  belonged  to  the  Third 
and  Fourth  regiments,  and  numbered  four  thou- 

309 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

sand  on  paper,  and  two  thousand  by  count  of 
heads.  When  they  had  seen  their  leader  taken 
prisoner,  and  swept  off  the  parade-ground  by  Men- 
doza's  cavalry,  they  had  first  attempted  to  follow 
in  pursuit  and  recapture  him,  but  the  men  on 
horseback  had  at  once  shaken  off  the  men  on  foot 
and  left  them,  panting  and  breathless,  in  the  dust 
behind  them.  So  they  halted  uncertainly  in  the 
road,  and  their  young  officers  held  counsel  to 
gether.  They  first  considered  the  advisability  of 
attacking  the  military  prison,  but  decided  against 
doing  so,  as  it  would  lead,  they  feared,  whether 
it  proved  successful  or  not,  to  the  murder  of  Ro- 
jas.  It  was  impossible  to  return  to  the  city  where 
Mendoza's  First  and  Second  regiments  greatly 
outnumbered  them.  Having  no  leader  and  no 
headquarters,  the  officers  marched  the  men  to  the 
hills  above  the  city  and  went  into  camp  to  await 
further  developments. 

Throughout  the  night  they  watched  the  illu 
mination  of  the  city  and  of  the  boats  in  the  har 
bor  below  them;  they  saw  the  flames  bursting  from 
the  homes  of  the  members  of  Alvarez's  Cabinet, 
and  when  the  morning  broke  they  beheld  the 
grounds  of  the  Palace  swarming  with  Mendoza's 
troops,  and  the  red  and  white  barred  flag  of  the 
revolution  floating  over  it.  The  news  of  the  as 
sassination  of  Alvarez  and  the  fact  that  Rojas  had 

310 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

been  spared  for  fear  of  the  people,  had  been  car 
ried  to  them  early  in  the  evening,  and  with  this 
knowledge  of  their  General's  safety  hope  returned 
and  fresh  plans  were  discussed.  By  midnight  they 
had  definitely  decided  that  should  Mendoza  at 
tempt  to  dislodge  them  the  next  morning,  they 
would  make  a  stand,  but  that  if  the  fight  went 
against  them,  they  would  fall  back  along  the 
mountain  roads  to  the  Valencia  mines,  where  they 
hoped  to  persuade  the  fifteen  hundred  soldiers 
there  installed  to  join  forces  with  them  against  the 
new  Dictator. 

In  order  to  assure  themselves  of  this  help,  a 
messenger  was  despatched  by  a  circuitous  route 
to  the  Palms,  to  ask  the  aid  of  the  resident  di 
rector,  and  another  was  sent  to  the  mines  to  work 
upon  the  feelings  of  the  soldiers  themselves.  The 
officer  who  had  been  sent  to  the  Palms  to  petition 
Clay  for  the  loan  of  his  soldier-workmen,  had  de 
cided  to  remain  until  Clay  returned,  and  another 
messenger  had  been  sent  after  him  from  the  camp 
on  the  same  errand. 

These  two  lieutenants  greeted  Clay  with  enthu 
siasm,  but  he  at  once  interrupted  them,  and  began 
plying  them  with  questions  as  to  where  their  camp 
was  situated  and  what  roads  led  from  it  to  the 
Palms. 

"Bring  your  men  at  once  to  this  end  of  our 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

railroad,"  he  said.  "It  is  still  early,  and  the  revo 
lutionists  will  sleep  late.  They  are  drugged  with 
liquor  and  worn  out  with  excitement,  and  what 
ever  may  have  been  their  intentions  toward  you 
last  night,  they  will  be  late  in  putting  them  into 
practice  this  morning.  I  will  telegraph  Kirkland 
to  come  up  at  once  with  all  of  his  soldrers  and  with 
his  three  hundred  Irishmen.  Allowing  him  a  half- 
hour  to  collect  them  and  to  get  his  flat  cars  to 
gether,  and  another  half-hour  in  which  to  make 
the  run,  he  should  be  here  by  half-past  six — and 
that's  quick  mobilization.  You  ride  back  now  and 
march  your  men  here  at  a  double-quick.  With 
your  two  thousand  we  shall  have  in  all  three  thou 
sand  and  eight  hundred  men.  I  must  have  abso 
lute  control  over  my  own  troops.  Otherwise  I 
shall  act  independently  of  you  and  go  into  the  city 
alone  with  my  workmen." 

"That  is  unnecessary,"  said  one  of  the  lieuten 
ants.  "We  have  no  officers.  If  you  do  not  com 
mand  us,  there  is  no  one  else  to  do  it.  We  prom 
ise  that  our  men  will  follow  you  and  give  you 
every  obedience.  They  have  been  led  by  foreign 
ers  before,  by  young  Captain  Stuart  and  Major 
Fergurson  and  Colonel  Shrevington.  They  know 
how  highly  General  Rojas  thinks  of  you,  and  they 
know  that  you  have  led  Continental  armies  in  Eu 
rope." 

3*2 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"Well,  don't  tell  them  I  haven't  until  this  is 
over,"  said  Clay.  "Now,  ride  hard,  gentlemen, 
and  bring  your  men  here  as  quickly  as  possible." 

The  lieutenants  thanked  him  effusively  and  gal 
loped  away,  radiant  at  the  success  of  their  mission, 
and  Clay  entered  the  office  where  MacWilliams 
was  telegraphing  his  orders  to  Kirkland.  He  seat 
ed  himself  beside  the  instrument,  and  from  time 
to  time  answered  the  questions  Kirkland  sent  back 
to  him  over  the  wire,  and  in  the  intervals  of  silence 
thought  of  Hope.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had 
gone  into  action  feeling  the  touch  of  a  woman's 
hand  upon  his  sleeve,  and  he  was  fearful  lest  she 
might  think  he  had  considered  her  too  lightly. 

He  took  a  piece  of  paper  from  the  table  and 
wrote  a  few  lines  upon  it,  and  then  rewrote  them 
several  times.  The  message  he  finally  sent  to  her 
was  this:  "I  am  sure  you  understand,  and  that 
you  would  not  have  me  give  up  beaten  now,  when 
what  we  do  to-day  may  set  us  right  again.  I 
know  better  than  any  one  else  in  the  world  can 
know,  what  I  run  the  risk  of  losing,  but  you  would 
not  have  that  fear  stop  me  from  going  on  with 
what  we  have  been  struggling  for  so  long.  I  can 
not  come  back  to  see  you  before  we  start,  but  I 
know  your  heart  is  with  me.  With  great  love, 
Robert  Clay." 

He  gave  the  note  to  his  servant,  and  the  answer 
313 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

was  brought  to  him  almost  immediately.  Hope 
had  not  rewritten  her  message  :  "I  love  you  because 
you  are  the  sort  of  man  you  are,  and  had  you 
given  up  as  father  wished  you  to  do,  or  on  my 
account,  you  would  have  been  some  one  else,  and 
I  would  have  had  to  begin  over  again  to  learn  to 
love  you  for  some  different  reasons.  I  know  that 
you  will  come  back  to  me  bringing  your  sheaves 
with  you.  Nothing  can  happen  to  you  now. 
Hope." 

He  had  never  received  a  line  from  her  before, 
and  he  read  and  reread  this  with  a  sense  of  such 
pride  and  happiness  in  his  face  that  MacWilliams 
smiled  covertly  and  bent  his  eyes  upon  his  instru 
ment.  Clay  went  back  into  his  room  and  kissed 
the  page  of  paper  gently,  flushing  like  a  boy  as 
he  did  so,  and  then  folding  it  carefully,  he  put  it 
away  beneath  his  jacket.  He  glanced  about  him 
guiltily,  although  he  was  quite  alone,  and  taking 
out  his  watch,  pried  it  open  and  looked  down  into 
the  face  of  the  photograph  that  had  smiled  up  at 
him  from  it  for  so  many  years.  He  thought  how 
unlike  it  was  to  Alice  Langham  as  he  knew  her. 
He  judged  that  it  must  have  been  taken  when  she 
was  very  young,  at  the  age  Hope  was  then,  before 
the  little  world  she  lived  in  had  crippled  and  nar 
rowed  her  and  marked  her  for  its  own.  He  re 
membered  what  she  had  said  to  him  the  first  night 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

he  had  seen  her.  "That  is  the  picture  of  the 
girl  who  ceased  to  exist  four  years  ago,  and  whom 
you  have  never  met."  He  wondered  if  she  had 
ever  existed. 

"It  looks  more  like  Hope  than  her  sister,"  he 
mused.  "It  looks  very  much  like  Hope."  He 
decided  that  he  would  let  it  remain  where  it  was 
until  Hope  gave  him  a  better  one;  and  smiling 
slightly  he  snapped  the  lid  fast,  as  though  he  were 
closing  a  door  on  the  face  of  Alice  Langham  and 
locking  it  forever. 

Kirkland  was  in  the  cab  of  the  locomotive  that 
brought  the  soldiers  from  the  mine.  He  stopped 
the  first  car  in  front  of  the  freight  station  until 
the  workmen  had  filed  out  and  formed  into  a  dou 
ble  line  on  the  platform.  Then  he  moved  the 
train  forward  the  length  of  that  car,  and  those 
in  the  one  following  were  mustered  out  in  a  similar 
manner.  As  the  cars  continued  to  come  in,  the 
men  at  the  head  of  the  double  line  passed  on 
through  the  freight  station  and  on  up  the  road 
to  the  city  in  an  unbroken  column.  There  was  no 
confusion,  no  crowding,  and  no  haste. 

When  the  last  car  had  been  emptied,  Clay  rode 
down  the  line  and  appointed  a  foreman  to  take 
charge  of  each  company,  stationing  his  engineers 
and  the  Irish-Americans  in  the  van.  It  looked 
more  like  a  mob  than  a  regiment.  None  of  the 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

men  were  in  uniform,  and  the  native  soldiers  were 
barefoot.  But  they  showed  a  winning  spirit,  and 
stood  in  as  orderly  an  array  as  though  they  were 
drawn  up  in  line  to  receive  their  month's  wages. 
The  Americans  in  front  of  the  column  were  hu 
morously  disposed,  and  inclined  to  consider  the 
whole  affair  as  a  pleasant  outing.  They  had  been 
placed  in  front,  not  because  they  were  better  shots 
than  the  natives,  but  because  every  South  Ameri 
can  thinks  that  every  citizen  of  the  United  States 
is  a  master  either  of  the  rifle  or  the  revolver,  and 
Clay  was  counting  on  this  superstition.  His  as 
sistant  engineers  and  foremen  hailed  him  as  he 
rode  on  up  and  down  the  line  with  good-natured 
cheers,  and  asked  him  when  they  were  to  get  their 
commissions,  and  if  it  were  true  that  they  were 
all  captains,  or  only  colonels,  as  they  were  at  home. 
They  had  been  waiting  for  a  half-hour,  when 
there  was  the  sound  of  horses'  hoofs  on  the  road, 
and  the  even  beat  of  men's  feet,  and  the  advance 
guard  of  the  Third  and  Fourth  regiments  came 
toward  them  at  a  quickstep.  The  men  were  still 
in  the  full-dress  uniforms  they  had  worn  at  the 
review  the  day  before,  and  in  comparison  with  the 
soldier-workmen  and  the  Americans  in  flannel 
shirts,  they  presented  so  martial  a  showing  that 
they  were  welcomed  with  tumultuous  cheers.  Clay 
threw  them  into  a  double  line  on  one  side  of  the 

316 


•Soldiers  of  Fortune 

road,  down  the  length  of  which  his  own  marched 
until  they  had  reached  the  end  of  it  nearest  to  the 
city,  when  they  took  up  their  position  in  a  close 
formation,  and  the  native  regiments  fell  in  behind 
them.  Clay  selected  twenty  of  the  best  shots 
from  among  the  engineers  and  sent  them  on  ahead 
as  a  skirmish  line.  They  were  ordered  to  fall  back 
at  once  if  they  saw  any  sign  of  the  enemy.  In 
this  order  the  column  of  four  thousand  men  started 
for  the  city. 

It  was  a  little  after  seven  when  they  advanced, 
and  the  air  was  mild  and  peaceful.  Men  and 
women  came  crowding  to  the  doors  and  windows 
of  the  huts  as  they  passed,  and  stood  watching 
them  in  silence,  not  knowing  to  which  party  the 
small  army  might  belong.  In  order  to  enlighten 
them,  Clay  shouted,  "Viva  Rojas."  And  his  men 
took  it  up,  and  the  people  answered  gladly. 

They  had  reached  the  closely  built  portion  of 
the  city  when  the  skirmish  line  came  running  back 
to  say  that  it  had  been  met  by  a  detachment  of 
Mendoza's  cavalry,  who  had  galloped  away  as 
soon  as  they  saw  them.  There  was  then  no  longer 
any  doubt  that  the  fact  of  their  coming  was  known 
at  the  Palace,  and  Clay  halted  his  men  in  a  bare 
plaza  and  divided  them  into  three  columns.  Three 
streets  ran  parallel  with  one  another  from  this 
plaza  to  the  heart  of  the  city,  and  opened  directly 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

upon  the  garden  of  the  Palace  where  Mendoza 
had  fortified  himself.  Clay  directed  the  columns 
to  advance  up  these  streets,  keeping  the  head  of 
each  column  in  touch  with  the  other  two.  At  the 
word  they  were  to  pour  down  the  side  streets  and 
rally  to  each  other's  assistance. 

As  they  stood,  drawn  up  on  the  three  sides  of 
the  plaza,  he  rode  out  before  them  and  held  up 
his  hat  for  silence.  They  were  there  with  arms 
in  their  hands,  he  said,  for  two  reasons:  the  greater 
one,  and  the  one  which  he  knew  actuated  the  na 
tive  soldiers,  was  their  desire  to  preserve  the  Con 
stitution  of  the  Republic.  According  to  their  own 
laws,  the  Vice-President  must  succeed  when  the 
President's  term  of  office  had  expired,  or  in  the 
event  of  his  death.  President  Alvarez  had  been 
assassinated,  and  the  Vice-President,  General  Ro- 
jas,  was,  in  consequence,  his  legal  successor.  It 
was  their  duty,  as  soldiers  of  the  Republic,  to 
rescue  him  from  prison,  to  drive  the  man  who  had 
usurped  his  place  into  exile,  and  by  so  doing  up 
hold  the  laws  which  they  had  themselves  laid 
down.  The  second  motive,  he  went  on,  was  a  less 
worthy  and  more  selfish  one.  The  Olancho  mines, 
which  now  gave  work  to  thousands  and  brought 
millions  of  dollars  into  the  country,  were  coveted 
by  Mendoza,  who  would,  if  he  could,  convert  them 
;nto  a  monopoly  of  his  government.  If  he  re- 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

mained  in  power  all  foreigners  would  be  driven 
out  of  the  country,  and  the  soldiers  would  be 
forced  to  work  in  the  mines  without  payment. 
Their  condition  would  be  little  better  than  that 
of  the  slaves  in  the  salt  mines  of  Siberia.  Not 
only  would  they  no  longer  be  paid  for  their  labor, 
but  the  people  as  a  whole  would  cease  to  receive 
that  share  of  the  earnings  of  the  mines  which  had 
hitherto  been  theirs. 

"Under  President  Rojas  you  will  have  liberty, 
justice,  and  prosperity,"  Clay  cried.  "Under 
Mendoza  you  will  be  ruled  by  martial  law.  He 
will  rob  and  overtax  you,  and  you  will  live  through 
a  reign  of  terror.  Between  them — which  will  you 
choose?" 

The  native  soldiers  answered  by  cries  of  "Ro 
jas,"  and  breaking  ranks  rushed  across  the  plaza 
toward  him,  crowding  around  his  horse  and 
shouting,  "Long  live  Rojas,"  "Long  live  the  Con 
stitution,"  "Death  to  Mendoza."  The  Americans 
stood  as  they  were  and  gave  three  cheers  for  the 
Government. 

They  were  still  cheering  and  shouting  as  they 
advanced  upon  the  Palace,  and  the  noise  of  their 
coming  drove  the  people  indoors,  so  that  they 
marched  through  deserted  streets  and  between 
closed  doors  and  sightless  windows.  No  one  op 
posed  them,  and  no  one  encouraged  them.  But 

319 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

they  could  now  see  the  fagade  of  the  Palace  and 
the  flag  of  the  Revolutionists  hanging  from  the 
mast  in  front  of  it. 

Three  blocks  distant  from  the  Palace  they  came 
upon  the  buildings  of  the  United  States  and  Eng 
lish  Legations,  where  the  flags  of  the  two  coun 
tries  had  been  hung  out  over  the  narrow  thor 
oughfare.  The  windows  and  the  roofs  of  each 
legation  were  crowded  with  women  and  children 
who  had  sought  refuge  there,  and  the  column  halt 
ed  as  Weimer,  the  Consul,  and  Sir  Julian  Pindar, 
the  English  Minister,  came  out,  bare-headed,  into 
the  street  and  beckoned  to  Clay  to  stop. 

"As  our  Minister  was  not  here,"  Weimer  said, 
"I  telegraphed  to  Truxillo  for  the  man-of-war 
there.  She  started  some  time  ago,  and  we  have 
just  heard  that  she  is  entering  the  lower  harbor. 
She  should  have  her  blue-jackets  on  shore  in  twen 
ty  minutes.  Sir  Julian  and  I  think  you  ought  to 
wait  for  them." 

The  English  Minister  put  a  detaining  hand  on 
Clay's  bridle.  "If  you  attack  Mendoza  at  the 
Palace  with  this  mob,"  he  remonstrated,  "rioting 
and  lawlessness  generally  will  break  out  all  over 
the  city.  I  ask  you  to  keep  them  back  until  we 
get  your  sailors  to  police  the  streets  and  protect 
property." 

Clay  glanced  over  his  shoulder  at  the  engineers 
320 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

and  the  Irish  workmen  standing  in  solemn  array 
behind  him.  "Oh,  you  can  hardly  call  this  a  mob," 
he  said.  "They  look  a  little  rough  and  ready,  but 
I  will  answer  for  them.  The  two  other  columns 
that  are  coming  up  the  streets  parallel  to  this  are 
Government  troops  and  properly  engaged  in  driv 
ing  a  usurper  out  of  the  Government  building. 
The  best  thing  you  can  do  is  to  get  down  to  the 
wharf  and  send  the  marines  and  blue-jackets  where 
you  think  they  will  do  the  most  good.  I  can't  wait 
for  them.  And  they  can't  come  too  soon." 

The  grounds  of  the  Palace  occupied  two  entire 
blocks;  the  Botanical  Gardens  were  in  the  rear, 
and  in  front  a  series  of  low  terraces  ran  down 
from  its  veranda  to  the  high  iron  fence  which 
separated  the  grounds  from  the  chief  thorough 
fare  of  the  city. 

Clay  sent  word  to  the  left  and  right  wing  of 
his  little  army  to  make  a  detour  one  street  distant 
from  the  Palace  grounds  and  form  in  the  street 
in  the  rear  of  the  Botanical  Gardens.  When  they 
heard  the  firing  of  his  men  from  the  front  they 
were  to  force  their  way  through  the  gates  at  the 
back  and  attack  the  Palace  in  the  rear. 

"Mendoza  has  the  place  completely  barricad 
ed,"  Weimer  warned  him,  "and  he  has  three  field 
pieces  covering  each  of  these  streets.  You  and 
your  men  are  directly  in  line  of  one  of  them  now. 

321 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

He  is  only  waiting  for  you  to  get  a  little  nearer 
before  he  lets  loose." 

From  where  he  sat  Clay  could  count  the  bars 
of  the  iron  fence  in  front  of  the  grounds.  But 
the  boards  that  backed  them  prevented  his  form 
ing  any  idea  of  the  strength  or  the  distribution 
of  Mendoza's  forces.  He  drew  his  staff  of  ama 
teur  officers  to  one  side  and  explained  the  situation 
to  them. 

"The  Theatre  National  and  the  Club  Union," 
he  said,  "face  the  Palace  from  the  opposite  cor 
ners  of  this  street.  You  must  get  into  them  and 
barricade  the  windows  and  throw  up  some  sort 
of  shelter  for  yourselves  along  the  edge  of  the 
roofs  and  drive  the  men  behind  that  fence  back 
to  the  Palace.  Clear  them  away  from  the  cannon 
first,  and  keep  them  away  from  it.  I  will  be  wait 
ing  in  the  street  below.  When  you  have  driven 
them  back,  we  will  charge  the  gates  and  have  it 
out  with  them  in  the  gardens.  The  Third  and 
Fourth  regiments  ought  to  take  them  in  the  rear 
about  the  same  time.  You  will  continue  to  pick 
them  off  from  the  roof." 

The  two  supporting  columns  had  already  started 
on  their  roundabout  way  to  the  rear  of  the  Palace. 
Clay  gathered  up  his  reins,  and  telling  his  men  to 
keep  close  to  the  walls,  started  forward,  his  sol 
diers  following  on  the  sidewalks  and  leaving  the 

322 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

middle  of  the  street  clear.  As  they  reached  a 
point  a  hundred  yards  below  the  Palace,  a  part 
of  the  wooden  shield  behind  the  fence  was  thrown 
down,  there  was  a  puff  of  white  smoke  and  a  re 
port,  and  a  cannon-ball  struck  the  roof  of  a  house 
which  they  were  passing  and  sent  the  tiles  clatter 
ing  about  their  heads.  But  the  men  in  the  lead 
had  already  reached  the  stage-door  of  the  theatre 
and  were  opposite  one  of  the  doors  to  the  club. 
They  drove  these  in  with  the  butts  of  their  rifles, 
and  raced  up  the  stairs  of  each  of  the  deserted 
buildings  until  they  reached  the  roof.  Langham 
was  swept  by  a  weight  of  men  across  a  stage,  and 
jumped  among  the  music  racks  in  the  orchestra. 
He  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  early  morning  sun 
shining  on  the  tawdry  hangings  of  the  boxes  and 
the  exaggerated  perspective  of  the  scenery.  He 
ran  through  corridors  between  two  great  statues 
of  Comedy  and  Tragedy,  and  up  a  marble  stair 
case  to  a  lobby  in  which  he  saw  the  white  faces 
about  him  multiplied  in  long  mirrors,  and  so  out 
to  an  iron  balcony  from  which  he  looked  down, 
panting  and  breathless,  upon  the  Palace  Gardens, 
swarming  with  soldiers  and  white  with  smoke. 
Men  poured  through  the  windows  of  the  club  op 
posite,  dragging  sofas  and  chairs  out  to  the  bal 
cony  and  upon  the  flat  roof.  The  men  near  him 
were  tearing  down  the  yellow  silk  curtains  in  the 

323 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

lobby  and  draping  them  along  the  railing  of  the 
balcony  to  better  conceal  their  movements  from 
the  enemy  below.  Bullets  spattered  the  stucco 
about  their  heads,  and  panes  of  glass  broke  sud 
denly  and  fell  in  glittering  particles  upon  their 
shoulders.  The  firing  had  already  begun  from 
the  roofs  near  them.  Beyond  the  club  and  the 
theatre  and  far  along  the  street  on  each  side  of 
the  Palace  the  merchants  were  slamming  the  iron 
shutters  of  their  shops,  and  men  and  women  were 
running  for  refuge  up  the  high  steps  of  the  church 
of  Santa  Maria.  Others  were  gathered  in  black 
masses  on  the  balconies  and  roofs  of  the  more  dis 
tant  houses,  where  they  stood  outlined  against  the 
soft  blue  sky  in  gigantic  silhouette.  Their  shouts 
of  encouragement  and  anger  carried  clearly  in  the 
morning  air,  and  spurred  on  the  gladiators  below 
to  greater  effort.  In  the  Palace  Gardens  a  line  of 
Mendoza's  men  fought  from  behind  the  first  bar 
ricade,  while  others  dragged  tables  and  bedding 
and  chairs  across  the  green  terraces  and  tumbled 
them  down  to  those  below,  who  seized  them  and 
formed  them  into  a  second  line  of  defence. 

Two  of  the  assistant  engineers  were  kneeling  at 
Langham's  feet  with  the  barrels  of  their  rifles  rest 
ing  on  the  railing  of  the  balcony.  Their  eyes  had 
been  trained  for  years  to  judge  distances  and  to 
measure  space,  and  they  glanced  along  the  sights 

324 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

of  their  rifles  as  though  they  were  looking  through 
the  lens  of  a  transit,  and  at  each  report  their  faces 
grew  more  earnest  and  their  lips  pressed  tighter 
together.  One  of  them  lowered  his  gun  to  light 
a  cigarette,  and  Langham  handed  him  his  match 
box,  with  a  certain  feeling  of  repugnance. 

"Better  get  under  cover,  Mr.  Langham,"  the 
man  said,  kindly.  "There's  no  use  our  keeping 
your  mines  for  you  if  you're  not  alive  to  enjoy 
them.  Take  a  shot  at  that  crew  around  the  gun." 

"I  don't  like  this  long  range  business,"  Lang- 
ham  answered.  "I  am  going  down  to  join  Clay. 
I  don't  like  the  idea  of  hitting  a  man  when  he 
isn't  looking  at  you." 

The  engineer  gave  an  incredulous  laugh. 

"If  he  isn't  looking  at  you,  he's  aiming  at  the 
man  next  to  you.  'Live  and  let  Live'  doesn't 
apply  at  present." 

As  Langham  reached  Clay's  side  triumphant 
shouts  arose  from  the  roof-tops,  and  the  men 
posted  there  stood  up  and  showed  themselves  above 
the  barricades  and  called  to  Clay  that  the  cannon 
were  deserted. 

Kirkland  had  come  prepared  for  the  barricade, 
and,  running  across  the  street,  fastened  a  dyna 
mite  cartridge  to  each  gate  post  and  lit  the  fuses. 
The  soldiers  scattered  before  him  as  he  came  leap 
ing  back,  and  in  an  instant  later  there  was  a  rack- 

325 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

ing  roar,  and  the  gates  were  pitched  out  of  their 
sockets  and  thrown  forward,  and  those  in  the 
street  swept  across  them  and  surrounded  the  can 
non. 

Langham  caught  it  by  the  throat  as  though  it 
were  human,  and  did  not  feel  the  hot  metal  burn 
ing  the  palms  of  his  hands  as  he  choked  it  and 
pointed  its  muzzle  toward  the  Palace,  while  the 
others  dragged  at  the  spokes  of  the  wheel.  It 
was  fighting  at  close  range  now,  close  enough  to 
suit  even  Langham.  He  found  himself  in  the 
front  rank  of  it  without  knowing  exactly  how  he 
got  there.  Every  man  on  both  sides  was  playing 
his  own  hand,  and  seemed  to  know  exactly  what 
to  do.  He  felt  neglected  and  very  much  alone, 
and  was  somewhat  anxious  lest  his  valor  might 
be  wasted  through  his  not  knowing  how  to  put  it 
to  account.  He  saw  the  enemy  in  changing  groups 
of  scowling  men,  who  seemed  to  eye  him  for  an 
instant  down  the  length  of  a  gun-barrel  and  then 
disappear  behind  a  puff  of  smoke.  He  kept  think 
ing  that  war  made  men  take  strange  liberties  with 
their  fellow-men,  and  it  struck  him  as  being  most 
absurd  that  strangers  should  stand  up  and  try  to 
kill  one  another,  men  who  had  so  little  in  common 
that  they  did  not  even  know  one  another's  names. 
The  soldiers  who  were  fighting  on  his  own  side 
were  equally  unknown  to  him,  and  he  looked  in 

326 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

vain  for  Clay.  He  saw  MacWilliams  for  a  mo 
ment  through  the  smoke,  jabbing  at  a  jammed 
cartridge  with  his  pen-knife,  and  hacking  the  lead 
away  to  make  it  slip.  He  was  remonstrating  with 
the  gun  and  swearing  at  it  exactly  as  though  it 
were  human,  and  as  Langham  ran  toward  him 
he  threw  it  away  and  caught  up  another  from  the 
ground.  Kneeling  beside  the  wounded  man  who 
had  dropped  it  and  picking  the  cartridges  from 
his  belt,  he  assured  him  cheerfully  that  he  was  not 
so  badly  hurt  as  he  thought. 

"You  all  right?"  Langham  asked. 

"I'm  all  right.  I'm  trying  to  get  a  little  laddie 
hiding  behind  that  blue  silk  sofa  over  there.  He's 
taken  an  unnatural  dislike  to  me,  and  he's  nearly 
got  me  three  times.  I'm  knocking  horse-hair  out 
of  his  rampart,  though." 

The  men  of  Stuart's  body-guard  were  fighting 
outside  of  the  breastworks  and  mattresses.  They 
were  using  their  swords  as  though  they  were  ma 
chetes,  and  the  Irishmen  were  swinging  their  guns 
around  their  shoulders  like  sledge-hammers,  and 
beating  their  foes  over  the  head  and  breast.  The 
guns  at  his  own  side  sounded  close  at  Langham's 
ear,  and  deafened  him,  and  those  of  the  enemy 
exploded  so  near  to  his  face  that  he  was  kept 
continually  winking  and  dodging,  as  though  he 
were  being  taken  by  a  flash-light  photograph. 

327 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

When  he  fired  he  aimed  where  the  mass  was  thick 
est,  so  that  he  might  not  see  what  his  bullet  did, 
but  he  remembered  afterward  that  he  always  re 
loaded  with  the  most  anxious  swiftness  in  order 
that  he  might  not  be  killed  before  he  had  had  an 
other  shot,  and  that  the  idea  of  being  killed  was 
of  no  concern  to  him  except  on  that  account.  Then 
the  scene  before  him  changed,  and  apparently  hun 
dreds  of  Mendoza's  soldiers  poured  out  from  the 
Palace  and  swept  down  upon  him,  cheering  as  they 
came,  and  he  felt  himself  falling  back  naturally 
and  as  a  matter  of  course,  as  he  would  have  stepped 
out  of  the  way  of  a  locomotive,  or  a  runaway 
horse,  or  any  other  unreasoning  thing.  His  shoul 
ders  pushed  against  a  mass  of  shouting,  sweating 
men,  who  in  turn  pressed  back  upon  others,  until 
the  mass  reached  the  iron  fence  and  could  move 
no  farther.  He  heard  Clay's  voice  shouting  to 
them,  and  saw  him  run  forward,  shooting  rapidly 
as  he  ran,  and  he  followed  him,  even  though  his 
reason  told  him  it  was  a  useless  thing  to  do,  and 
then  there  came  a  great  shout  from  the  rear  of 
the  Palace,  and  more  soldiers,  dressed  exactly  like 
the  others,  rushed  through  the  great  doors  and 
swarmed  around  the  two  wings  of  the  building, 
and  he  recognized  them  as  Rojas's  men  and  knew 
that  the  fight  was  over. 

He  saw  a  tall  man  with  a  negro's  face  spring 
3-28 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

out  of  the  first  mass  of  soldiers  and  shout  to  them 
to  follow  him.  Clay  gave  a  yell  of  welcome  and 
ran  at  him,  calling  upon  him  in  Spanish  to  sur 
render.  The  negro  stopped  and  stood  at  bay, 
glaring  at  Clay  and  at  the  circle  of  soldiers  clos 
ing  in  around  him.  He  raised  his  revolver  and 
pointed  it  steadily.  It  was  as  though  the  man 
knew  he  had  only  a  moment  to  live,  and  meant 
to  do  that  one  thing  well  in  the  short  time  left 
him. 

Clay  sprang  to  one  side  and  ran  toward  him, 
dodging  to  the  right  and  left,  but  Mendoza  fol 
lowed  his  movements  carefully  with  his  revolver. 

It  lasted  but  an  instant.  Then  the  Spaniard 
threw  his  arm  suddenly  across  his  face,  drove  the 
heel  of  his  boot  into  the  turf,  and  spinning  about 
on  it  fell  forward. 

"If  he  was  shot  where  his  sash  crosses  his  heart, 
I  know  the  man  who  did  it,"  Langham  heard  a 
voice  say  at  his  elbow,  and  turning  saw  MacWil- 
liams  wetting  his  fingers  at  his  lips  and  touching 
them  gingerly  to  the  heated  barrel  of  his  Win 
chester. 

The  death  of  Mendoza  left  his  followers  with 
out  a  leader  and  without  a  cause.  They  threw 
their  muskets  on  the  ground  and  held  their  hands 
above  their  heads,  shrieking  for  mercy.  Clay  and 
his  officers  answered  them  instantly  by  running 

329 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

from  one  group  to  another,  knocking  up  tbe  bar 
rels  of  the  rifles  and  calling  hoarsely  to  the  men 
on  the  roofs  to  cease  firing,  and  as  they  were 
obeyed  the  noise  of  the  last  few  random  shots  was 
drowned  in  tumultuous  cheering  and  shouts  of  ex 
ultation,  that,  starting  in  the  gardens,  were  caught 
up  by  those  in  the  streets  and  passed  on  quickly 
as  a  line  of  flame  along  the  swaying  house 
tops. 

The  native  officers  sprang  upon  Clay  and  em 
braced  him  after  their  fashion,  hailing  him  as  the 
Liberator  of  Olancho,  as  the  Preserver  of  the  Con 
stitution,  and  their  brother  patriot.  Then  one  of 
them  climbed  to  the  top  of  a  gilt  and  marble  table 
and  proclaimed  him  military  President. 

"You'll  proclaim  yourself  an  idiot,  if  you  don't 
get  down  from  there,"  Clay  said,  laughing.  "I 
thank  you  for  permitting  me  to  serve  with  you, 
gentlemen.  I  shall  have  great  pleasure  in  telling 
our  President  how  well  you  acquitted  yourself  in 
this  row — battle,  I  mean.  And  now  I  would  sug 
gest  that  you  store  the  prisoners'  weapons  in  the 
Palace  and  put  a  guard  over  them,  and  then  con 
duct  the  men  themselves  to  the  military  prison, 
where  you  can  release  General  Rojas  and  escort 
him  back  to  the  city  in  a  triumphal  procession. 
You'd  like  that,  wouldn't  you?" 

But  the  natives  protested  that  that  honor  was 
330 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

for  him  alone.  Clay  declined  it,  pleading  that 
he  must  look  after  his  wounded. 

"I  can  hardly  believe  there  are  any  dead,"  he 
said  to  Kirkland.  "For,  if  it  takes  two  thousand 
bullets  to  kill  a  man  in  European  warfare,  it  must 
require  about  two  hundred  thousand  to  kill  a  man 
in  South  America." 

He  told  Kirkland  to  march  his  men  back  to 
the  mines  and  to  see  that  there  were  no  strag 
glers.  "If  they  want  to  celebrate,  let  them  cele 
brate  when  they  get  to  the  mines,  but  not  here. 
They  have  made  a  good  record  to-day  and  I  won't 
have  it  spoiled  by  rioting.  They  shall  have  their 
reward  later.  Between  Rojas  and  Mr.  Langham 
they  should  all  be  rich  men." 

The  cheering  from  the  housetops  since  the  firing 
ceased  had  changed  suddenly  into  hand-clappings, 
and  the  cries,  though  still  undistinguishable,  were 
of  a  different  sound.  Clay  saw  that  the  Ameri 
cans  on  the  balconies  of  the  club  and  of  the  theatre 
had  thrown  themselves  far  over  the  railings  and 
were  all  looking  in  the  same  direction  and  waving 
their  hats  and  cheering  loudly,  and  he  heard  above 
the  shouts  of  the  people  the  regular  tramp  of  men's 
feet  marching  in  step,  and  the  rattle  of  a  machine 
gun  as  it  bumped  and  shook  over  the  rough  stones. 
He  gave  a  shout  of  pleasure,  and  Kirkland  and 
the  two  boys  ran  with  him  up  the  slope,  crowding 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

each  other  to  get  a  better  view.  The  mob  parted 
at  the  Palace  gates,  and  they  saw  two  lines  of  blue 
jackets,  spread  out  like  the  sticks  of  a  fan,  drag 
ging  the  gun  between  them,  the  middies  in  their 
tight-buttoned  tunics  and  gaiters,  and  behind  them 
more  blue-jackets  with  bare,  bronzed  throats,  and 
with  the  swagger  and  roll  of  the  sea  in  their  legs 
and  shoulders.  An  American  flag  floated  above 
the  white  helmets  of  the  marines.  Its  presence 
and  the  sense  of  pride  which  the  sight  of  these 
men  from  home  awoke  in  them  made  the  fight  just 
over  seem  mean  and  petty,  and  they  took  off  their 
hats  and  cheered  with  the  others. 

A  first  lieutenant,  who  felt  his  importance  and 
also  a  sense  of  disappointment  at  having  arrived 
too  late  to  see  the  fighting,  left  his  men  at  the 
gate  of  the  Palace,  and  advanced  up  the  terrace, 
stopping  to  ask  for  information  as  he  came.  Each 
group  to  which  he  addressed  himself  pointed  to 
Clay.  The  sight  of  his  own  flag  had  reminded 
Clay  that  the  banner  of  Mendoza  still  hung  from 
the  mast  beside  which  he  was  standing,  and  as  the 
officer  approached  he  was  busily  engaged  in  un 
twisting  its  halyards  and  pulling  it  down. 

The  lieutenant  saluted  him  doubtfully. 

"Can  you  tell  me  who  is  in  command  here?" 
he  asked.  He  spoke  somewhat  sharply,  for  Clay 
was  not  a  military  looking  personage,  covered  as 

332 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

he  was  with  dust  and  perspiration,  and  with  his 
sombrero  on  the  back  of  his  head. 

"Our  Consul  here  told  us  at  the  landing-place,'* 
continued  the  lieutenant  in  an  aggrieved  tone,  "that 
a  General  Mendoza  was  in  power,  and  that  I  had 
better  report  to  him,  and  then  ten  minutes  later 
I  hear  that  he  is  dead  and  that  a  General  Rojas 
is  President,  but  that  a  man  named  Clay  has  made 
himself  Dictator.  My  instructions  are  to  recog 
nize  no  belligerents,  but  to  report  to  the  Gov 
ernment  party.  Now,  who  is  the  Government 
party?" 

Clay  brought  the  red-barred  flag  down  with  a 
jerk,  and  ripped  it  free  from  the  halyards.  Kirk- 
land  and  the  two  boys  were  watching  him  with 
amused  smiles. 

"I  appreciate  your  difficulty,"  he  said.  "Presi 
dent  Alvarez  is  dead,  and  General  Mendoza,  who 
tried  to  make  himself  Dictator,  is  also  dead,  and 
the  real  President,  General  Rojas,  is  still  in  jail. 
So  at  present  I  suppose  that  I  represent  the  Gov 
ernment  party,  at  least  I  am  the  man  named  Clay. 
It  hadn't  occurred  to  me  before,  but,  until  Rojas 
is  free,  I  guess  I  am  the  Dictator  of  Olancho. 
Is  Madame  Alvarez  on  board  your  ship?" 

"Yes,  she  is  with  us,"  the  officer  replied,  in  some 
confusion.  "Excuse  me — are  you  the  three  gen 
tlemen  who  took  her  to  the  yacht?  I  am  afraid 

333 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

I  spoke  rather  hastily  just  now,  but  you  are  not 
in  uniform,  and  the  Government  seems  to  change 
so  quickly  down  here  that  a  stranger  finds  it  hard 
to  keep  up  with  it" 

Six  of  the  native  officers  had  approached  as  the 
lieutenant  was  speaking  and  saluted  Clay  gravely. 
"We  have  followed  your  instructions,"  one  of 
them  said,  "and  the  regiments  are  ready  to  march 
with  the  prisoners.  Have  you  any  further  orders 
for  us — can  we  deliver  any  messages  to  General 
Rojas?" 

"Present  my  congratulations  to  General  Rojas, 
and  best  wishes,"  said  Clay.  "And  tell  him  for 
me,  that  it  would  please  me  greatly  if  he  would 
liberate  an  American  citizen  named  Burke,  who 
is  at  present  in  the  cuartel.  And  that  I  wish  him 
to  promote  all  of  you  gentlemen  one  grade  and 
give  each  of  you  the  Star  of  Olancho.  Tell  him 
that  in  my  opinion  you  have  deserved  even  higher 
reward  and  honor  at  his  hands." 

The  boy-lieutenants  broke  out  into  a  chorus  of 
delighted  thanks.  They  assured  Clay  that  he  was 
most  gracious;  that  he  overwhelmed  them,  and 
that  it  was  honor  enough  for  them  that  they  had 
served  under  him.  But  Clay  laughed,  and  drove 
them  off  with  a  paternal  wave  of  the  hand. 

The  officer  from  the  man-of-war  listened  with 
an  uncomfortable  sense  of  having  blundered  in  his 

334 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

manner  toward  this  powder-splashed  young  man 
who  set  American  citizens  at  liberty,  and  created 
captains  by  the  half-dozen  at  a  time. 

"Are  you  from  the  States?"  he  asked  as  they 
moved  toward  the  man-of-war's  men. 

"I  am,  thank  God.     Why  not?" 

"I  thought  you  were,  but  you  saluted  like  an 
Englishman." 

"I  was  an  officer  in  the  English  army  once  in 
the  Soudan,  when  they  were  short  of  officers." 
Clay  shook  his  head  and  looked  wistfully  at  the 
ranks  of  the  blue-jackets  drawn  up  on  either  side 
of  them.  The  horses  had  been  brought  out  and 
Langham  and  MacWilliams  were  waiting  for  him 
to  mount.  "I  have  worn  several  uniforms  since 
I  was  a  boy,"  said  Clay.  "But  never  that  of  my 
own  country." 

The  people  were  cheering  him  from  every  part 
of  the  square.  Women  waved  their  hands  from 
balconies  and  housetops,  and  men  climbed  to  awn 
ings  and  lampposts  and  shouted  his  name.  The 
officers  and  men  of  the  landing  party  took  note 
of  him  and  of  this  reception  out  of  the  corner  of 
their  eyes,  and  wondered. 

"And  what  had  I  better  do?"  asked  the  com 
manding  officer. 

"Oh,  I  would  police  the  Palace  grounds,  if  I 
were  you,  and  picket  that  street  at  the  right,  where 

335 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

there  are  so  many  wine  shops,  and  preserve  order 
generally  until  Rojas  gets  here.  He  won't  be 
more  than  an  hour,  now.  We  shall  be  coming 
over  to  pay  our  respects  to  your  captain  to-mor 
row.  Glad  to  have  met  you." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  to  have  met  you,"  answered 
the  officer,  heartily.  "Hold  on  a  minute.  Even 
if  you  haven't  worn  our  uniform,  you're  as  good, 
and  better,  than  some  I've  seen  that  have,  and 
you're  a  sort  of  a  commander-in-chief,  anyway, 
and  I'm  damned  if  I  don't  give  you  a  sort  of 
salute." 

Clay  laughed  like  a  boy  as  he  swung  himself 
into  the  saddle.  The  officer  stepped  back  and 
gave  the  command;  the  middies  raised  their  swords 
and  Clay  passed  between  massed  rows  of  his  coun 
trymen  with  their  muskets  held  rigidly  toward 
him.  The  housetops  rocked  again  at  the  sight, 
and  as  he  rode  out  into  the  brilliant  sunshine,  his 
eyes  were  wet  and  winking. 

The  two  boys  had  drawn  up  at  his  side,  but 
MacWilliams  had  turned  in  the  saddle  and  was 
still  looking  toward  the  Palace,  with  his  hand 
resting  on  the  hindquarters  of  his  pony. 

"Look  back,  Clay,"  he  said.  "Take  a  last  look 
at  it,  you'll  never  see  it  after  to-day.  Turn  again, 
turn  again,  Dictator  of  Olancho." 

The  men  laughed  and  drew  rein  as  he  bade 
336 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

them,  and  looked  back  up  the  narrow  street.  They 
saw  the  green  and  white  flag  of  Olancho  creep 
ing  to  the  top  of  the  mast  before  the  Palace,  the 
blue-jackets  driving  back  the  crowd,  the  gashes  in 
the  walls  of  the  houses,  where  Mendoza's  cannon- 
balls  had  dug  their  way  through  the  stucco,  and 
the  silk  curtains,  riddled  with  bullets,  flapping 
from  the  balconies  of  the  opera-house. 

"You  had  it  all  your  own  way  an  hour  ago," 
MacWilliams  said,  mockingly.  "You  could  have 
sent  Rojas  into  exile,  and  made  us  all  Cabinet 
Ministers — and  you  gave  it  up  for  a  girl.  Now, 
you're  Dictator  of  Olancho.  What  will  you  be 
to-morrow?  To-morrow  you  will  be  Andrew 
Langham's  son-in-law  —  Benedict,  the  married 
man.  Andrew  Langham's  son-in-law  cannot  ask 
his  wife  to  live  in  such  a  hole  as  this,  so — Good 
bye,  Mr.  Clay.  We  have  been  long  together." 

Clay  and  Langham  looked  curiously  at  the  boy 
to  see  if  he  were  in  earnest,  but  MacWilliams 
would  not  meet  their  eyes. 

"There  were  three  of  us,"  he  said,  "and  one  got 
shot,  and  one  got  married,  and  the  third — ?  You 
will  grow  fat,  Clay,  and  live  on  Fifth  Avenue  and 
wear  a  high  silk  hat,  and  some  day  when  you're 
sitting  in  your  club  you'll  read  a  paragraph  in  a 
newspaper  with  a  queer  Spanish  date-line  to  it, 
and  this  will  all  come  back  to  you, — this  heat,  and 

337 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

the  palms,  and  the  fever,  and  the  days  when  you 
lived  on  plantains  and  we  watched  our  trestles 
grow  out  across  the  canons,  and  you'll  be  willing 
to  give  your  hand  to  sleep  in  a  hammock  again, 
and  to  feel  the  sweat  running  down  your  back,  and 
you'll  want  to  chuck  your  gun  up  against  your  chin 
and  shoot  into  a  line  of  men,  and  the  policemen 
won't  let  you,  and  your  wife  won't  let  you.  That's 
what  you're  giving  up.  There  it  is.  Take  a  good 
look  at  it.  You'll  never  see  it  again." 


XV 

THE  steamer  "Santiago,"  carrying  "passen 
gers,  bullion,  and  coffee,"  was  headed  to 
pass  Porto  Rico  by  midnight,  when  she  would  be 
free  of  land  until  she  anchored  at  the  quarantine 
station  of  the  green  hills  of  Staten  Island.  She 
had  not  yet  shaken  off  the  contamination  of  the 
earth;  a  soft  inland  breeze  still  tantalized  her  with 
odors  of  tree  and  soil,  the  smell  of  the  fresh  coat 
of  paint  that  had  followed  her  coaling  rose  from 
her  sides,  and  the  odor  of  spilt  coffee-grains  that 
hung  around  the  hatches  had  yet  to  be  blown  away 
by  a  jealous  ocean  breeze,  or  washed  by  a  welcom 
ing  cross  sea. 

The  captain  stopped  at  the  open  entrance  of 
the  Social  Hall.  "If  any  of  you  ladies  want  to 
take  your  last  look  at  Olancho  you've  got  to  come 
now,"  he  said.  "We'll  lose  the  Valencia  light  in 
the  next  quarter  hour." 

Miss  Langham  and  King  looked  up  from  their 
novels  and  smiled,  and  Miss  Langham  shook  her 
head.  "I've  taken  three  final  farewells  of  Olan 
cho  already,"  she  said:  "before  we  went  down  to 

339 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

dinner,  and  when  the  sun  set,  and  when  the  moon 
rose.  I  have  no  more  sentiment  left  to  draw  on. 
Do  you  want  to  go?"  she  asked. 

"I'm  very  comfortable,  thank  you,"  King  said, 
and  returned  to  the  consideration  of  his  novel. 

But  Clay  and  Hope  arose  at  the  captain's  sug 
gestion  with  suspicious  alacrity,  and  stepped  out 
upon  the  empty  deck,  and  into  the  encompassing 
darkness,  with  a  little  sigh  of  relief. 

Alice  Langham  looked  after  them  somewhat 
wistfully  and  bit  the  edges  of  her  book.  She  sat 
for  some  time  with  her  brows  knitted,  glancing  oc 
casionally  and  critically  toward  King  and  up  with 
unseeing  eyes  at  the  swinging  lamps  of  the  saloon. 
He  caught  her  looking  at  him  once  when  he  raised 
his  eyes  as  he  turned  a  page,  and  smiled  back  at 
her,  and  she  nodded  pleasantly  and  bent  her  head 
over  her  reading.  She  assured  herself  that  after 
all  King  understood  her  and  she  him,  and  that 
if  they  never  rose  to  certain  heights,  they  never 
sank  below  a  high  level  of  mutual  esteem,  and 
that  perhaps  was  the  best  in  the  end. 

King  had  placed  his  yacht  at  the  disposal  of 
Madame  Alvarez,  and  she  had  sailed  to  Colon, 
where  she  could  change  to  the  steamers  for  Lis 
bon,  while  he  accompanied  the  Langhams  and  the 
wedding  party  to  New  York. 

Clay  recognized  that  the  time  had  now  arrived 
340 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

in  his  life  when  he  could  graduate  from  the  posi 
tion  of  manager-director  and  become  the  engineer 
ing  expert,  and  that  his  services  in  Olancho  were 
no  longer  needed. 

With  Rojas  in  power  Mr.  Langham  had  noth 
ing  further  to  fear  from  the  Government,  and 
with  Kirkland  in  charge  and  young  Langham  re 
turning  after  a  few  months'  absence  to  resume  his 
work,  he  felt  himself  free  to  enjoy  his  holiday. 

They  had  taken  the  first  steamer  out,  and  the 
combined  efforts  of  all  had  been  necessary  to  pre 
vail  upon  MacWilliams  to  accompany  them;  and 
even  now  the  fact  that  he  was  to  act  as  Clay's 
best  man  and,  as  Langham  assured  him  cheerfully, 
was  to  wear  a  frock  coat  and  see  his  name  in  all 
the  papers,  brought  on  such  sudden  panics  of  fear 
that  the  fast-fading  coast  line  filled  his  soul  with 
regret,  and  a  wilful  desire  to  jump  overboard  and 
swim  back. 

Clay  and  Hope  stopped  at  the  door  of  the  chief 
engineer's  cabin  and  said  they  had  come  to  pay 
him  a  visit.  The  chief  had  but  just  come  from 
the  depths  where  the  contamination  of  the  earth 
was  most  evident  in  the  condition  of  his  stokers; 
but  his  chin  was  now  cleanly  shaven,  and  his  pipe 
was  drawing  as  well  as  his  engine  fires,  and  he 
had  wrapped  himself  in  an  old  P.  &  O.  white  duck 
jacket  to  show  what  he  had  been  before  he  sank 

34i 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

to  the  level  of  a  coasting  steamer.  They  admired 
the  clerk-like  neatness  of  the  report  he  had  just 
finished,  and  in  return  he  promised  them  the  fast 
est  run  on  record,  and  showed  them  the  portrait 
of  his  wife,  and  of  their  tiny  cottage  on  the  Isle 
of  Wight,  and  his  jade  idols  from  Corea,  and 
carved  cocoanut  gourds  from  Brazil,  and  a  picture 
from  the  "Graphic"  of  Lord  Salisbury,  tacked  to 
the  partition  and  looking  delightedly  down  be 
tween  two  highly  colored  lithographs  of  Miss  El 
len  Terry  and  the  Princess  May. 

Then  they  called  upon  the  captain,  and  Clay 
asked  him  why  captains  always  hung  so  much  lace 
about  their  beds  when  they  invariably  slept  on  a 
red  velvet  sofa  with  their  boots  on,  and  the  cap 
tain  ordered  his  Chinese  steward  to  mix  them  a 
queer  drink  and  offered  them  the  choice  of  a  six 
months'  accumulation  of  paper  novels,  and  free 
admittance  to  his  bridge  at  all  hours.  And  then 
they  passed  on  to  the  door  of  the  smoking-room 
and  beckoned  MacWilliams  to  come  out  and  join 
them.  His  manner  as  he  did  so  bristled  with  im 
portance,  and  he  drew  them  eagerly  to  the  rail. 

"I've  just  been  having  a  chat  with  Captain 
Burke,"  he  said,  in  an  undertone.  "He's  been 
telling  Langham  and  me  about  a  new  game  that's 
better  than  running  railroads.  He  says  there's  a 
country  called  Macedonia  that's  got  a  native  prince 

342 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

who  wants  to  be  free  from  Turkey,  and  the  Turks 
won't  let  him,  and  Burke  says  if  we'll  each  put 
up  a  thousand  dollars,  he'll  guarantee  to  get  the 
prince  free  in  six  months.  He's  made  an  estimate 
of  the  cost  and  submitted  it  to  the  Russian  Em 
bassy  at  Washington,  and  he  says  they  will  help 
him  secretly,  and  he  knows  a  man  who  has  just 
patented  a  new  rifle,  and  who  will  supply  him  with 
a  thousand  of  them  for  the  sake  of  the  advertise 
ment.  He  says  it's  a  mountainous  country,  and 
all  you  have  to  do  is  to  stand  on  the  passes  and 
roll  rocks  down  on  the  Turks  as  they  come  in. 
It  sounds  easy,  doesn't  it?" 

"Then  you're  thinking  of  turning  professional 
filibuster  yourself?"  said  Clay. 

"Well,  I  don't  know.  It  sounds  more  interest 
ing  than  engineering.  Burke  says  I  beat  him  on 
this  last  fight,  and  he'd  like  to  have  me  with  him 
in  the  next  one — sort  of  young-blood-in-the-firm 
idea — and  he  calculates  that  we  can  go  about  set 
ting  people  free  and  upsetting  governments  for 
some  time  to  come.  He  says  there  is  always  some 
thing  to  fight  about  if  you  look  for  it.  And  I 
must  say  the  condition  of  those  poor  Macedonians 
does  appeal  to  me.  Think  of  them  all  alone  down 
there  bullied  by  that  Sultan  of  Turkey,  and  want 
ing  to  be  free  and  independent.  That's  not  right. 
You,  as  an  American  citizen,  ought  to  be  the  last 

343 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

person  in  the  world  to  throw  cold  water  on  an 
undertaking  like  that.  In  the  name  of  Liberty 
now?" 

"I  don't  object;  set  them  free,  of  course," 
laughed  Clay.  "But  how  long  have  you  enter 
tained  this  feeling  for  the  enslaved  Macedonians, 
Mac?" 

"Well,  I  never  heard  of  them  until  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  ago,  but  they  oughtn't  to  suffer  through 
my  ignorance." 

"Certainly  not.  Let  me  know  when  you're 
going  to  do  it,  and  Hope  and  I  will  run  over  and 
look  on.  I  should  like  to  see  you  and  Burke  and 
the  Prince  of  Macedonia  rolling  rocks  down  on 
the  Turkish  Empire." 

Hope  and  Clay  passed  on  up  the  deck  laughing, 
and  MacWilliams  looked  after  them  with  a  fond 
and  paternal  smile.  The  lamp  in  the  wheelhouse 
threw  a  broad  belt  of  light  across  the  forward 
deck  as  they  passed  through  it  into  the  darkness 
of  the  bow,  where  the  lonely  lookout  turned  and 
stared  at  them  suspiciously,  and  then  resumed  his 
stern  watch  over  the  great  waters. 

They  leaned  upon  the  rail  and  breathed  the 
soft  air  which  the  rush  of  the  steamer  threw  in 
their  faces,  and  studied  in  silence  the  stars  that 
lay  so  low  upon  the  horizon  line  that  they  looked 
like  the  harbor  lights  of  a  great  city. 

344 


"  Over  there  is  the  coast  of  Africa." 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

"Do  you  see  that  long  line  of  lamps  off  our 
port  bow?"  asked  Clay. 

Hope  nodded. 

"Those  are  the  electric  lights  along  the  ocean 
drive  at  Long  Branch  and  up  the  Rumson  Road, 
and  those  two  stars  a  little  higher  up  are  fixed 
to  the  mast-heads  of  the  Scotland  Lightship.  And 
that  mass  of  light  that  you  think  is  the  Milky 
Way,  is  the  glare  of  the  New  York  street  lamps 
thrown  up  against  the  sky." 

"Are  we  so  near  as  that?"  said  Hope,  smiling. 
"And  what  lies  over  there?"  she  asked,  pointing 
to  the  east. 

"Over  "there  is  the  coast  of  Africa.  Don't  you 
see  the  lighthouse  on  Cape  Bon?  If  it  wasn't  for 
Gibraltar  being  in  the  way,  I  could  show  you  the 
harbor  lights  of  Bizerta,  and  the  terraces  of  Al 
giers  shining  like  a  cafe  chantant  in  the  night." 

"Algiers,"  sighed  Hope,  "where  you  were  a 
soldier  of  Africa,  and  rode  across  the  deserts. 
Will  you  take  me  there?" 

"There,  of  course,  but  to  Gibraltar  first,  where 
we  will  drive  along  the  Alameda  by  moonlight. 
I  drove  there  once  coming  home  from  a  mess 
dinner  with  the  Colonel.  The  drive  lies  between 
broad  white  balustrades,  and  the  moon  shone  down 
on  us  between  the  leaves  of  the  Spanish  bayonet. 
It  was  like  an  Italian  garden.  But  he  did  not  see 

345 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

it,  and  he  would  talk  to  me  about  the  Watkins 
range  finder  on  the  lower  ramparts,  and  he  puffed 
on  a  huge  cigar.  I  tried  to  imagine  I  was  there 
on  my  honeymoon,  but  the  end  of  his  cigar  would 
light  up  and  I  would  see  his  white  mustache  and 
the  glow  on  his  red  jacket,  so  I  vowed  I  would 
go  over  that  drive  again  with  the  proper  person. 
And  we  won't  talk  of  range  finders,  will  we? 

"There  to  the  North  is  Paris;  your  Paris,  and 
my  Paris,  with  London  only  eight  hours  away. 
If  you  look  very  closely,  you  can  see  the  thousands 
of  hansom  cab  lamps  flashing  across  the  asphalt, 
and  the  open  theatres,  and  the  fair)7  lamps  in  the 
gardens  back  of  the  houses  in  Mayfair,  where 
they  are  giving  dances  in  your  honor,  in  honor 
of  the  beautiful  American  bride,  whom  every  one 
wants  to  meet.  And  you  will  wear  the  finest  tiara 
we  can  get  on  Bond  Street,  but  no  one  will  look 
at  it;  they  will  only  look  at  you.  And  I  will  feel 
very  miserable  and  tease  you  to  come  home." 

Hope  put  her  hand  in  his,  and  he  held  her  fin 
ger-tips  to  his  lips  for  an  instant  and  closed  his 
other  hand  upon  hers. 

"And  after  that?"  asked  Hope. 

"After  that  we  will  go  to  work  again,  and  take 
long  journeys  to  Mexico  and  Peru  or  wherever 
they  want  me,  and  I  will  sit  in  judgment  on  the 
work  other  chaps  have  done.  And  when  we  get 

346 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

back  to  our  car  at  night,  or  to  the  section  house, 
for  it  will  be  very  rough  sometimes," — Hope 
pressed  his  hand  gently  in  answer, — "I  will  tell 
you  privately  how  very  differently  your  husband 
would  have  done  it,  and  you,  knowing  all  about 
it,  will  say  that  had  it  been  left  to  me,  I  would 
certainly  have  accomplished  it  in  a  vastly  superior 
manner." 

"Well,  so  you  would,"  said  Hope,  calmly. 

"That's  what  I  said  you'd  say,"  laughed  Clay. 
"Dearest,"  he  begged,  "promise  me  something. 
Promise  me  that  you  are  going  to  be  very  happy." 

Hope  raised  her  eyes  and  looked  up  at  him  in 
silence,  and  had  the  man  in  the  wheelhouse  been 
watching  the  stars,  as  he  should  have  been,  no 
one  but  the  two  foolish  young  people  on  the  bow 
of  the  boat  would  have  known  her  answer. 

The  ship's  bell  sounded  eight  times,  and  Hope 
moved  slightly. 

"So  late  as  that,"  she  sighed.  "Come.  We 
must  be  going  back." 

A  great  wave  struck  the  ship's  side  a  friendly 
slap,  and  the  wind  caught  up  the  spray  and  tossed 
it  in  their  eyes,  and  blew  a  strand  of  her  hair 
loose  so  that  it  fell  across  Clay's  face,  and  they 
laughed  happily  together  as  she  drew  it  back  and 
he  took  her  hand  again  to  steady  her  progress 
across  the  slanting  deck. 

347 


Soldiers  of  Fortune 

As  they  passed  hand  in  hand  out  of  the  shadow 
into  the  light  from  the  wheelhouse,  the  lookout 
in  the  bow  counted  the  strokes  of  the  bell  to  him 
self,  and  then  turned  and  shouted  back  his  meas 
ured  cry  to  the  bridge  above  them.  His  voice 
seemed  to  be  a  part  of  the  murmuring  sea  and  the 
welcoming  winds. 

"Listen,"  said  Clay. 

"Eight  bells,"  the  voice  sang  from  the  dark 
ness.  "The  for'ard  light's  shining  bright — and 
all's  well." 


348 


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